


Reaching Out Blindly

by floofboy



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Ross, Canonically Dense Alba Frühling, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Multiple Personalities, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Top Alba, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, if ros being clueless about sexytimes doesn't sound good to you, no worse than in canon though, step back now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: Sion has dreamt of a boy that mirrored him for as long as he's had magic. The boy's never said anything Sion has wanted to hear though, so he's more than happy to pretend he doesn't exist.More importantly, Sion needs Alba to say he loves him, because Sion refuses to be the one to say it first.(He needs Alba to say he loves him, because once Alba doesn't need him, he'll have nothing left to keep him by his side.)
Relationships: Alba Frühling/Meta Ross, Alba Frühling/Ross | Creasion, Meta Ross/Alba Frühling/Ross | Creasion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I wasn't gonna do another explicit fic? Yeah, neither do I. In my defense, Ros was begging to be taken care of for once.
> 
> I guess I should temper expectations going in and say that the only explicit scene in the first half is decidedly not really sexy though. I mostly just wanted to play around with a much less experienced Ros.

“I miss Hero.”

Sion, lying on the ground with his eyes still squeezed shut, just scowls. “Shut up.”

“I wish he was with me again.” A short pause, then the laments start again. “Everything reminds me of him.”

“I don’t think that,” Sion says, voice flat. 

“Don’t we?”

“We don’t.”

“I think we do.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Sion gets up, hauls himself up into a sitting position. He looks up at the other boy standing in front of him, and says, voice still flat, “We _don’t_.”

Black eyes blink back at him, confused. “I really don’t think that’s right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” says Sion. “Pretend you think it is.”

“That’s not as easy for me as it is for you, you know?” The boy gazes up into the white void, expression conflicted. “ _You_ just shove everything at me. I can’t shove stuff back.”

“Aren’t you shoving stuff at me right now?” Sion shoots back. 

“And not succeeding,” the other boy grumbles. 

“...What does it matter if you succeed, anyways?” mutters Sion. He leans back against his arms, squints up into the white void as well. “It won’t change anything. Hero’s moved on.” His fists clench. “He doesn’t need me. Isn’t interested in going on another journey with me. Whatever.” He shrugs with forced nonchalance. “It’s probably more fun with just Crea and me either way. Who cares?”

Sion hears a shuffling sound, and when he turns his gaze back forwards, he sees the other boy has settled himself on the blank white ground as well. 

“Maybe if I bother him enough, he’ll change his mind and come with me,” the boy says in contemplation. 

A flash of anger. 

“You never change, do you?” snaps Sion. “Stop talking about things that’ll never happen! You-“

Black eyes bore into him. “Crea came back, didn’t he?”

-And the words die in his throat. 

“...I guess he did,” Sion mutters quietly. 

“Yeah.” The other boy smiles at him. “You should listen to me sometimes.”

Sion snorts. “I’m not listening to a figment of my imagination.”

“But you’ll talk to one?”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do in a dream,” says Sion, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess.” The boy is silent for a long moment, and Sion almost thinks he’s done for the night. But then, the boy opens his mouth, and out comes- “I miss Hero.”

“You said that already.”

“I know.” The other boy glances at the ground. “But I really do.”

A sigh escapes Sion’s throat. 

“Well,” Sion says reluctantly. “I suppose it’s annoying not having my favourite punching bag around.” He shrugs dismissively. “Crea’s too optimistic. It’s no fun beating him up- his reactions are just boring.”

“I want to do more than just beat Hero up though.”

Sion grits his teeth. “I don’t _care_.”

“I want-“

“I _know_ what you want,” snaps Sion, “You said more than enough back when Hero and I were journeying together.”

“It’s what you want too, you know.”

Sion just snorts dismissively, and in response, the boy sighs. 

“Maybe I should just go find Hero myself,” he mumbles. 

“And how do you plan to do that?” asks Sion. 

“I’ll find a way!” The boy flashes a grin. “We have our bond, after all!” Then he presses a hand to his heart. “And I have my love.”

It’s all just a dream. The other boy in front of him is just a recurring figment of his imagination, with _no_ connection to reality or how Sion really felt about things. 

(That was a blatant lie, and Sion knew that perfectly well, but he preferred not to admit it.)

Still though-

“ _Please_ don’t say things like that with my voice and face,” Sion says with a shudder. 

“It’s my voice and face too!”

“Unfortunately,” mutters Sion, and prays he wakes up soon. 

“Why don’t you go meet him instead?” the other boy suggests. “Season two just ended, so I doubt he’s doing anything important.”

Sion just shoots a glare at the other boy. 

“It’s only been a few weeks since… since we defeated the demon lord,” Sion says shortly.

(He pointedly ignores the sad look that flashes over the other boy’s face.

Rchimedes wasn’t someone he wanted to think about.)

The boy must have decided to take mercy for once though, because all he has to say is “So?”

“Hero sure hasn’t tried to reach out yet.”

The boy tilts his head to the side, and repeats, “So?”

“ _So,_ ” Sion stresses, “You want _me_ to be the one to go back and cling to Hero after only a few weeks apart? When Hero is doing perfectly fine on his own?” He shudders. “I’d rather die.”

The expression on the other boy’s face is decidedly unimpressed, and so Sion scowls. 

“Shut up.”

* * *

“You look tired, Sii-tan!” is what Crea has to say first thing next morning. 

Sion just grunts and heads to the bathroom. 

Journeying with Crea is fun. The sweets are wonderful, the company is great - the world at peace is lovely, and the threat of Rchimedes no longer looming in the back of his mind lovelier still. 

He still misses Alba like a torn limb. 

...Maybe his unconscious had a point.

Sion has been having these dreams almost daily lately - of him, and another him, in a vast white expanse that too-closely resembled a dimensional rift for Sion’ comfort. He’s had these dreams since he awoke to his magic, but they haven’t been this bad in a while, not since his Creasion era. 

(He met the other boy almost daily back when he was Creasion, but the boy had spent most of his time then sobbing into the ground. Crying about anything and everything - about Crea, about Rchimedes, about every human Sion had been too weak to save. 

Sion, numb as he was at the time, had just found it obnoxious.

Now, he’s just glad he hadn’t broken down in reality.)

The dreams settled down after he started travelling with Alba. The other boy still showed up on occasion, whispered insecurities about leaving Crea to rot and Rchimedes to die-

(-insecurities about falling for someone when he knew he couldn’t stay-)

-but mostly, there was silence, and that was a huge relief for Sion. He detested seeing someone with his face cry and refuse to stop, detested their little talks that left him feeling wrung out and defeated. 

But of course the other boy had quieted down when he was with Alba. 

(Alba had drawn out his true self, had made him feel comfortable to be fully him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Sometimes, when he was with Alba, Sion even forgot he had ever been Creasion.)

On the flip side though-

Now Alba was gone from his side, of course his mirror would pop back up in his dreams. 

That’s why it’s a relief, in more ways than one, when he learns that Alba has been thrown into jail yet again. That the other hero wasn’t doing so great without him after all, that he needed tutoring and company and _Sion._

(Though he’d rather die than admit it.)

Alba looks as though he’s over the moon when Sion first comes to visit him, not long after the other hero has been incarcerated. 

“Ros!” exclaims Alba the moment he spots Sion. His voice is bright, his face is beaming, and altogether Sion’s pulse rate immediately rises two notches. 

He wants to be closer, wants to touch him, wants to press him against a wall and force his gaze on him. But Sion prides himself on his self-control, so all he does is step into the cell and-

“Right straight!” 

-jab a hand into Alba’s stomach with a smile. 

“Don’t act like punching me is a greeting!” Alba snaps back, then lets out a small groan, arms wrapping around his stomach. 

“Isn’t it?” Sion asks innocently. 

Alba grumbles something unintelligible at that, but Sion doesn’t particularly care. He’s satisfied for the moment at least, now that he’s managed to get that physical contact he craved. 

“Really, Hero, you couldn’t survive without me for even two months?” Sion says, and while he’s going for harsh and mocking, it comes out as far too joyful. Luckily, Alba doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Sorry…” Alba mumbles, looking dejected. 

“Well, it’s fine,” says Sion, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll just have to pound your studies into you now, won’t I?”

“...Urk.”

* * *

Alba is Alba, even a year older and almost as tall as Sion. He still makes grumpy comebacks when Sion teases him too much, still is awkward and dense and whiny at times. And Sion is happy that his hero is still there, that their year apart hasn’t changed Alba so much that he’s unrecognizable. 

But Alba has also gotten more confident, and with that, more assertive. 

Subtlety was thrown into the trash can sometime in the past year, it seems. 

“Hey, Ros,” Alba says, and then a hand is reaching across the desk to caress his cheek gently. A finger traces under his eye. 

Sion freezes solid. 

Alba continues, cocking his head to the side. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

Sion stares blankly at Alba, mind short-circuiting. The hand on his cheek was warm and soft and _what did Hero think he was doing?!_

“Ros?”

He forces himself out the daze by slapping Alba’s arm aside. 

“I’m fine,” Sion says curtly. “Concentrate on your work, Hero. I’m here for a reason.”

But he can’t meet Alba’s eyes, and that says far more than anything that comes out of his mouth. He’d like nothing more than to go dig a hole to die in of embarrassment. 

Unfortunately life isn’t that kind, and that isn’t the last incident. Far from it - if anything, Alba is bolstered by Sion’s initial reaction, and takes it as permission to keep on going. 

Light touches on his arm when Alba wants to get his attention. Pressing against him when Sion comes up to explain a question or two. Caressing his cheek, again, when they’re eating and Alba claims there’s something on his face. 

Sion desperately keeps himself composed in the face of this new Alba, who’s clearly decided what he wants, even if the other hero is still too much of a coward to say it outright. Because Sion refuses to be the one to give in, to confess first. Not to _Hero._ Not to the midget who couldn’t even scratch a Nisepanda, not to the idiot with grandiose dreams but not a speck of rationality to back them up-

_But none of that is true anymore, is it?_

The thought that runs across his mind sounds chiding, and Sion scowls, because, well, it’s not wrong. 

His pride still smarts at the idea of giving in so completely to Alba.

Sometimes, he can’t help but imagine it though. Imagine a vague future, when Alba’s mastered his magic enough to live a normal life once more. Imagines that both Crea and him have gotten journeyed out, that they’ve both settled down at long last. 

(Imagines settling down with Alba.)

Those fuzzy dreams would never come to fruition if Alba didn’t master his magic though, so Sion is merciless when it comes to his tutoring. Alba complains sometimes at the ridiculous workloads, but regardless, he doesn’t give up. 

Alba must really be a masochist. He knows that Sion always brings piles and piles of work for him to do, but he still brightens up whenever he sees Sion visit him. 

And today, he goes as far as to come up and lean close in not-quite-a-hug, hands lightly gripping Sion’s. 

“Hey, R- Sion,” Alba says fondly. 

It’s times like this that Sion wants to reciprocate so badly he can taste it. It would be easy, to reach his arms around Alba and squeeze tight - to lean in a little closer to brush his lips against the other hero’s. 

_Just do it then._

He refuses. 

Except he blinks, and the next thing he knows, his arms are wrapped tight around Alba, the other hero’s head pressed snug over his shoulder. 

His eyes go wide, incredulity coursing through him, because he has _no idea_ what just happened. 

“S-Sion?” stammers Alba, sounding confused, but all-too-happy. 

(His heart beats, faster, _faster-_ )

Sion quickly pushes Alba away, even as he feels cold at the loss of contact. 

Refusing to meet Alba’s eyes, Sion says briskly, “Hurry up and show me your homework, Hero. Though I’m sure you haven’t done it.”

Alba eyes him with some confusion, but eventually, settles for an indulgent smile. 

“Alright,” says Alba. 

Sion hates it. 

Why can’t Alba press him for answers? Why can’t he just ask for more, ask for-

(Ask for everything Sion could give him.)

* * *

Once a month, Sion finds, is not enough. 

He catches himself daydreaming sometimes, in boring wagon rides while Crea is snoring away beside him. Daydreaming of Alba, wondering what he was doing, despite knowing the answer perfectly well. 

At the same time, heading out to the demon world once a month is disruptive enough to their journey as it is. Twice a month might work, but any more than that, and it wouldn’t be fair to Crea. 

And besides, Sion might love seeing Alba, but he hates that dim cave. He’d go crazy staying there for too long. 

(He doesn’t know how Alba can stand it.)

At least it’s easy to forget when Crea is up and about. Little things still remind him of Alba, but it doesn’t hurt, not like it does when he feels alone. 

And it helps that there’s a bit of a separation between Crea and Alba. They don’t really know each other, after all.

Which is why Sion really shouldn’t be surprised when Crea asks to come with Sion on one of his tutoring days. 

(He’s still surprised though.)

“It’ll be pretty boring,” Sion says, a little doubtfully. “Why do you want to come?”

“I want to get to know Alba-kun better!” Crea exclaims. 

They’re sitting on a bench in their current town, not really doing much but chatting. 

Sion’s fingers tap out a pattern on the wood of the bench. 

(He doesn’t want Crea to come, and he doesn’t know why.)

“He’s going to be working on his exercises most of the time,” hedges Sion. 

“That’s fine,” Crea says immediately, then grins. “He’ll be finished eventually, right?”

Sion scowls a little, and Crea, in response, peers at him curiously. 

“...You know, Sii-tan,” he says finally. 

“What?” Sion answers, somewhat grumpily. 

“It’s not fair to Alba-kun for you to be this possessive,” Crea says, and Sion flushes a bright red. 

(That wasn’t- that couldn’t be the reason why he didn’t want Crea there!)

“Why would I be possessive of _Hero?_ ” snaps Sion, defensive. 

Crea just smiles.

“What about this?” he offers. “I can come the day after your usual tutoring day.” His smile widens. “Then you’ll get twice the amount of time with Alba-kun, even if you have to share half of it with me.”

...That did sound nice. 

“Fine,” Sion says brusquely, and Crea laughs.

* * *

Crea and Alba play off of each other well, Sion has to admit. But well, Crea plays well with anyone. 

(He’s friends with _him,_ after all.)

Alba looks happy to hear that Sion would be coming back tomorrow with Crea in tow, and Sion is conflicted. He’s always happy to see Alba happy, but on the other hand… he doesn’t like that Alba is so happy to see someone that isn’t _him._

(It makes him worry that Alba only cares about seeing him because he’s forced to.)

But Sion is sure Alba must get other visitors regularly. His parents must visit, naturally, and he bets some of that lot from the castle must come by sometime. They owe a lot to Alba, if nothing else. 

Sion can’t imagine Alba acting the way he does with Sion with anyone else. That must mean something, right?

Alba certainly doesn’t act in the same way around Crea. He’s polite, a little awkward - understandable, considering they’re almost strangers - and definitely not affectionate. 

(It makes Sion relax a little.)

They end up playing UNO, because it gives them something more to do than just chat. 

“I’m out,” Sion says brightly, throwing his last card onto the pile in the middle. 

“No way,” Alba says in dismay. “How can you win three times in a row?”

“Ha ha, Sii-tan’s always been good with cards!”

“Well, I know that, but…” Alba trails off into a grumble, and Sion has to snicker at the sight. 

“You just suck, Hero.”

“It’s just luck!” sputters Alba, “How can I suck?!” 

Sion shuffles over to Alba’s side. 

“Let me see your cards.” He peers at Alba’s cards. “Yes, you definitely suck.”

“I can’t control the cards I get, you know,” grumbles Alba. “If you’re so good at this, then help me win against Crea-san.”

“Alright,” Sion says brightly, fully intending to help Alba lose. 

“Wait, really?” Alba says, sounding - rightfully - surprised. He leans against Sion with a smile, head resting against Sion’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you then.”

Alba’s warmth pressed into him almost makes Sion consider helping him win after all. 

Almost.

(Alba’s offended complaints after the match would be just as lovely, after all.)

“Huh,” Crea says, tone unreadable. 

Sion jerks his head back forwards, but Crea’s expression is as unreadable as his tone. 

He’s suddenly fully aware of just how _close_ he and Alba were at the moment. With a cough, he shifts a little to the side, giving them a respectable amount of space. 

Alba makes a confused noise, but lets him go. 

“Anyways, Hero, let’s go make you the first place loser!”

“Do you have to call it that?!”

* * *

Overall, it’s a fun two days. He has to admit that it’s not bad having his best friend there with Alba and him. 

But once they’re back in an inn in the human world, Crea turns to him with a questioning expression, and Sion regrets it all. 

“Sii-tan… do you feel guilty?”

Sitting at the edge of his bed, Sion stares up at Crea. He’s completely confused. 

He expected Crea to ask him whether he liked Alba, or whether they were dating, or in love, or some other kind of obnoxiously sickening comment. 

He hadn’t expected this. 

“What do you mean?”

Crea glances at the ground, looking unusually subdued. “Do you feel guilty about what Uncle Rchimedes did to me?” He swallows. “That you couldn’t save me right away?”

“I don’t…” Sion starts. 

“That you were happy with Alba-kun while I was still asleep?”

Sion clamps his mouth shut. 

There’s silence for a little while, until Crea looks back up, face set. “I just want to know, Sii-tan.”

“I…” tries Sion. His mouth feels dry. “I mean… I…”

What was he supposed to say?

Crea watches in silence as Sion tries and fails to answer, then shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry, Sii-tan,” he says quietly. 

“Wha- you don’t have anything to be sorry for!” snaps Sion, but Crea just shakes his head again. 

“When I got my body back, I kinda just… wanted to do what I couldn’t all those years, you know?” says Crea, “So I asked you to come on a journey with me, like I always wanted. But you couldn’t say no, could you? Not if you felt so guil-”

Sion jumps up from the bed. 

“Sii-ta-“

And slams a foot into Crea’s shin. Crea immediately yelps and crouches down, hands wrapping around it to alleviate the pain. 

“You’re an idiot,” Sion says flatly. 

“Sii-tan?”

He finally knows the words he wants to say. 

“Fine,” Sion says, “You’re right. I do feel guilty. I wouldn’t have said no, no matter what I felt.” 

Crea looks quietly resigned at those words, but Sion just shakes his head, incredulous. 

“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to go on a journey with you just as much as you did.”

“Huh?”

“Why do you think I didn’t give up, all those years as Creasion?” Sion snaps. “It was all for you. To get back _my_ best friend.” He throws up his hands in frustration. “Yes, fine, I admit it, I want to be with Hero. You probably saw that today. But the like I have for him is different from the like I have for you.” He smiles, small and quiet. “It’s not an either-or, Crea. I can want to spend time with both of you.”

Crea stares up at him for one heartbeat, two, then breaks out into a wide grin. He stands back up, straight and tall. 

Now that was more like Crea. 

“Now that I think about it, you aren’t the type to keep quiet about anything you dislike,” he says with a laugh. 

“That’s right,” replies Sion. He crosses his arms. “And don’t forget it.”

“Eh heh.” 

Sion lets his expression soften. With a small cough, he turns around. “Anyways, let’s get ready for be-“

"-But Sii-tan," Crea says, voice curious now.

Sion glances back, blinking. "What?"

“You're in love with Alba-kun?” Crea asks, and Sion _chokes._

* * *

Later that night, after Sion has _convinced_ Crea to forget about his little slip, Crea pipes up again. 

“You can still visit Alba-kun more if you want, you know.” Crea smiles. “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to disrupt our journey that much,” explains Sion, and he thinks that’ll be the end of it. 

But Crea just frowns, looking contemplative. “Why don’t you visit during the night, then?”

Sion blinks. 

“We usually do most of our exploring during the day, yeah?” says Crea, “If you visit after dinner and come back in the morning, it won’t be disruptive at all!”

“I guess…” says Sion, a little hesitant. “But it’s really fine.”

“Is Alba-kun fine though?” Crea asks. 

“What?” Sion asks right back. 

“He seems lonely, you know?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” says Sion, shrugging. “I’m not his only visitor.”

(He can’t be, because otherwise all the love Alba showed him would be far too fragile for Sion to bear.)

“Still, you should visit him more,” insists Crea, and well, it wasn’t as though Sion didn’t _want_ to see Alba more often. 

“I’ll talk to the Second about it,” Sion decides. 

Crea flashes a grin back.

* * *

Usually, Sion has Rchi take him to see Alba. But if he wanted to go in the late evening, Rchi would be asleep or getting ready to go to bed. She was still a child after all. 

So the next time he goes to visit Alba, he has Rchi drop him by the castle on his way back, and bothers the one other person with the power to control gates. 

“Second,” he says as he steps into the office, “I want to come by at night sometimes, after Rchi’s gone to sleep. Give me a whistle to contact you.”

The Second blinks up at him from his desk. “That’s fine, Creasion-san, but why?”

“It’s easier if Hero can ask me questions more than once a month,” Sion says with a purposefully dismissive shrug. “Especially now that we’re getting close to the finish line - the concepts he’s learning are much more complex.”

“Of course.” the Second gives him a brief nod. “I’ll ask Februar to order another bed for the caves then.”

“You don’t need to,” Sion says without thinking, because he’d been planning to mess with Alba like old times - at least once. He’d probably take the Second up on his offer after that. 

Back when they were a broke soldier-hero pair on their journey, oftentimes all they could afford was an inn room with a single bed. They’d play cards to decide who got it, but Sion would cheat, and he’d get the bed almost all the time. It has been hilarious, and he’d love to reenact that scenario today. 

Except the Second’s reaction is odd - he blushes lightly at his words, eyes widening. “I see.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Ah, I mean.” the Second lets out a small cough, looking awkward. “I _am_ very happy for you, Creasion-san. I never would’ve thought I’d see the day… I suppose you're getting to that age.” 

Sion is decidedly confused at this point. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says bluntly. 

“Um.” the Second coughs again. “We don’t have to discuss it then. Just, er-“ his gaze goes serious. “I’m glad you came to me for this. Do make sure that you keep that kind of talk away from Rchi - she’s too young.” he glances down at his desk, his fingers tapping out a nervous pattern. “And… erm... you _are_ keeping safe, aren’t you?”

Sion just stares blankly. 

The Second stares back, just as blankly, then pales. He seems to have come to some kind of realization. 

“Creasion-san…” the Second says slowly, looking like he hates every word coming from his mouth. “Do you, um, know where babies come from?”

The pin drops, and Sion flushes tomato red. He slams his hand on the Second’s desk, papers fluttering at the impact. 

The Second lets out a weak whimper. 

“Do you really think I can be this skilled in magic without understanding basic biological processes?” Sion hisses, his face so hot it felt as though it was going to burn off. “Hero and I aren’t- why would you think that?!”

“My apologies, Creasion-san…” the Second says, shrinking into himself. “I just thought, considering the First’s personality… and your unfortunate teenage years… that it was possible, that perhaps…”

It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption, Sion reluctantly admits, no matter how humiliating it might be. 

“I had books. I taught myself,” Sion says bluntly. 

A year, living in the ruins of his village with the corpses of its villagers. A year he spent desperately absorbing the contents any textbook he could find, in between foraging for food and water. And at the end of it all, he produced his own Mana Maker at the age of only thirteen. 

Of course he understood what copulation was - the biology texts explained it well enough, and he had his vague knowledge from his everyday life on top of that. 

(He might be somewhat iffy on the fine details, but he knew what it was. He did.)

“Naturally.” the Second coughs, once. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Good,” Sion says flatly. 

“Right.” the Second nods, then rapidly changes the subject. “It’s good to hear that you’re visiting Alba-san more often though. You are his only human visitor, after all…”

Sion freezes at that last sentence, his stomach plummeting. “What?”

The Second immediately looks nervous. “Weren’t you aware?”

“No,” says Sion, not quite able to hide the note of dismay in his voice. “What about his parents? Or anyone from the castle?”

“His mother asked to visit once, a few months ago - his father never showed, nor did anyone from the castle,” the Second explains cautiously. “Alba-san often chats with Februar during his meals, of course, and Rchi and I do go to visit when we have the time, but…”

“I see,” says Sion, voice dull. 

“Is something the matter, Creasion-san?”

“...No,” Sion answers. He shakes his head once, twice. “Just… I think I’ll take you up on that bed after all.”

* * *

Sion is faced with a conundrum. 

On one hand, he… likes Alba being more assertive, just a little, perhaps. He may or may not enjoy feeling Alba’s light touches and gentle caresses. 

But that wasn’t fair to Alba, was it? Not when he’s gotten Alba’s response already. He got it loud and clear when Alba chose to stay when Sion left, just as Sion knew he would. 

Alba might always welcome him in, might always smile and say soft things, but Alba was obviously lonely, and Sion one of his very few visitors. He had thought that more people were visiting Alba, that at the very least his _parents_ would - but they aren’t, and Sion has to confront the logical conclusions of that fact. 

Back when they journeyed together - those days that Sion still treasured so dear - they had quiet moments, gentle moments between Sion’s mocking and Alba’s complaining. They became friends at least, that much he was sure of. But Alba hadn’t really had a chance to make friends before - Sion was the first person near his age that he really met. 

And once they spent a year apart, once Alba had the chance to make other friends, to see the world without Sion, Alba chose to part ways. He wouldn’t have chosen to return to Sion if he had the choice - circumstances forced him back into his arms, and circumstances are making him clingy and affectionate. 

Circumstances can change at the drop of a hat. 

Sion has to respect that. Even if it makes him want to scream, even if he can’t help but indulge, just a little, in Alba’s loneliness.

(He doesn’t want Alba to hate him once the hero has the choice to leave once more.)

* * *

“Ros- Sion.”

“Hero.”

There’s a moment of silence. Alba takes a deep breath. 

Then he gestures at the bed taking up a good half of the cell and sputters, “What is this?!”

“A bed?” Sion says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fine. Yes. A bed.” Alba pinches his nose. “Why is it so big?!”

“It’s funny seeing your little bed all squished to the side.” Sion draws a hand to his mouth and snickers as Alba lets out an unintelligible noise of frustration. 

“Why did you go and get a bed brought in anyways?” mumbles Alba. 

“...I’ll come by at night sometimes from now on.”

Alba jerks up straight, eyes widening in pleased disbelief. “What?”

Sion glances at the ground, Alba’s gaze too beaming for him to take. “You’re getting close to the finish line - it’s harder for you to figure out some of these complex concepts yourself, isn’t it?” He shrugs. “Even a little time in the evening will speed things up, Hero. I don’t want to be tutoring you forever either.”

“Thank you,” Alba says quietly, and Sion still can’t meet his gaze. 

“Anyways, Hero, while seeing your reaction _was_ amusing-“ Sion snickers again “-there’s a second reason why I had this bed brought in.”

Sion gestures at the bed. “Shrink it. That’s your test for the month.”

“Huh?”

“Shrink it,” Sion repeats, a little impatiently. “You should have the knowledge you need to do it by now, don’t you?”

“R-right.” Alba turns towards the large bed, raising his hands towards it. “Of course I do.”

“You don’t sound very confident, Hero.”

“Of course I do!” Alba tries again, firmer this time, and whips his hands up. Even with as low of a mana level as Sion has now, he can still make out the spells Alba is layering - stability and warping, well-entangled. Sion nods in approval.

Alba's brows furrow, the bed and its coverings slowly shrinking. Then the bed reaches a normal size, and the bed disintegrates into a pile of dust within seconds.

Sion just sighs. 

“Wha- why?!” Alba exclaims, sounding frustrated. 

“What spell did you end first, Hero?”

“...Ah,” Alba says weakly. 

“Just because it’s easier to end the spell you layered on first doesn’t mean you should do it,” Sion lectures, “You should’ve reviewed this when I assigned you readings on knot theory two months ago. A physical modification spell can be viewed as a knot, where its unknot…”

The lecture continues for a while.

* * *

Eventually, Sion lets Alba off, because he was beginning to yawn as much as Alba was. Warping magic was important to master, but Sion supposes it can wait for later. 

“I’m taking the bed,” Sion tells Alba, and Alba, looking guilty, nods. 

So they get ready for bed, Sion shaking off his outer clothes and borrowing a spare toothbrush from Alba. The other hero finds a second blanket from a closet somewhere, to Sion’s disappointment. 

He watches silently from the bed as Alba rolls himself in the blanket on the ground, tries to get comfortable. 

_Just invite him in,_ murmurs something inside of him. _It doesn’t have to be something romantic._

Sion shakes the stray thought away. That would be a step too far, especially when he’s already planning to indulge and visit Alba more often. He can’t take advantage of Alba’s loneliness to that degree. 

But he finds his mouth opening without his input. 

“Hero.”

Alba shuffles to look up at him curiously. “Sion? What is it?”

To Sion’s horror, the words that come out of his mouth next are- “Do you want to come up here?” 

“What?” Alba says, squinting suspiciously. “Are you plotting something?”

Sion throws a pillow at him it’s a bullseye - he hears a muffled yelp as it fwumps into Alba’s face. 

...He didn’t mean to invite Alba up into his bed. He doesn’t know how it happened. 

He tries to take it back, to play it off as a joke, but-

His mouth slams closed, and he pales a little. He doesn’t know what’s going on. 

_But why ruin something you want?_ asks a voice in his head. 

Sion may want it, but surely he didn’t want it so badly his very instincts were rebelling. It would be nice, of course. Nice to have Alba pressed against him on the small bed, to feel his warmth from under the blankets, to hear his soft breathing-

He swallows. 

...It didn’t have to be something romantic. 

“You’ll study better with a good night’s sleep,” Sion finds himself saying. 

Alba stares up at him, still looking a little suspicious, but relents, just as he always does.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and gets up, blanket still wrapped around him. 

He slides into bed, settles himself in as far away as he can but still all too close, and Sion’s heart beats too fast for the rest of the night.

* * *

Sion orders in another bed a day later, a properly sized one this time, so they have no excuse to sleep next to each other again. 

But Sion’s been faced with a slight… problem, since that night. 

Alba had smelled really nice that night. Sion doesn’t know why, but he’s been really stuck on that lately. 

Alba had also looked really nice the morning after. An ador- idiotic look on his face as he drooled sway on the mattress, warm hands pressing against him-

(A flash of stomach clear to be seen, Alba having kicked off his blanket sometime during the night.)

He can’t stop thinking about it. Which is a problem, because his lower half reacts far too enthusiastically whenever his thoughts stray to how Alba had looked that night. 

It’s attraction, Sion supposes. He’s felt flashes of it before, but never this bad. 

Unfortunately, he’s not entirely sure what he _wants_. The texts he’s read on sexual practices tended to concentrate on the procreation part of things, which shouldn’t be relevant in this case. But he knows at least that he’d like to kiss Alba, to feel his warmth all over him - and he knows that he wasn’t getting it. 

Sion’s just been surreptitiously tucking the problem away, in between desperately trying not to think about it. The former is working fairly well, thankfully. The latter, not as much. 

Crea, who has the approximate observational power of a rock, has luckily not noticed a thing. That being said, this situation couldn’t continue forever. He needed to do _something._ Preferably something that didn’t involve Alba. 

_Pain deals with it pretty well._

That was true. He had to deal with this sometimes as Creasion, especially right after waking up. When he just hadn’t had the time to wait for it to settle, he discovered that a sharp jolt of pain was more than enough to fix the problem. 

But he no longer has a Mana Maker. Ripping off a finger would be a terrible decision when he couldn’t regenerate it in an instant anymore. 

So Sion resigns himself. There was no quick fix to the problem - he’d just have to suffer through it until his body decided to move on. 

(When he finally figures out the proper alleviation method, he wants to slap himself for not realizing it earlier.)

* * *

As Sion promised, he’s been visiting Alba in the evenings sometimes, when he isn’t too tired from the day’s journey and could field some questions. As a result, Alba’s progress is going smoother than ever. It makes Sion more than a little pleased. 

That night, he wanders into the cave a little later than usual only to find Alba’s cell empty. He frowns and turns around to search for him, but before he can-

“Oh, Sion!”

-Alba steps into view. 

Wet and half-naked. 

Sion’s brain may or may not short circuit. 

“I didn’t think you were coming today, so I was taking a bath.”

It’s the first time in a little while that Sion has gotten a good eyeful of Alba’s body, and, mind a little dazed, he thinks-

Alba really has gotten _toned_ , hasn’t he?

“Sion?” asks Alba, sounding a little self-conscious now. He adjusts the towel at his waist. 

Sion shakes his head sharply, the fog lifting from his mind. 

“Is there hot water left?” Sion asks brusquely. 

“Yeah?” Alba answers, voice hesitant. “I always heat up a lot, for the practice…”

“Great,” Sion says, and walks right past Alba out of the cell. “I’m taking a bath too.”

“Okay?”

* * *

The bathing area is a little ways into the cave, in a somewhat hidden alcove by a natural pool. A porcelain bathtub has been dropped nearby. 

Sion has been getting Alba to use the pool for his practice, since temperature control was always a god skill to have. So unsurprisingly, the pool is still steaming hot when Sion arrives. 

It takes a little time to move the hot water into the bathtub through the makeshift pump, but it doesn’t take long enough, because by the time Sion steps into the tub-

His cock is still happily perked up. 

Sion glares at it. 

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t respond. 

Sion just lets out a sigh. It would probably settle down in a bit, but the last thing he wanted was to take too long and leave Alba wondering what was going on. 

_Break a finger._

A valid option. He could pretend to have tripped, and Alba’s gained enough control to easily heal a small fracture like that. The pain would be more than enough to fix the problem. 

He would really prefer not to though. Sion could take pain, but he didn’t like it much, and admittedly, his tolerance may have gone down slightly after years of peace. 

This was all Alba’s fault. Who did he think he was? How dare he get taller and nicer and-

Sion quickly cuts off that train of thought before the heat pooling in his stomach worsened. 

With a sigh, Sion sinks deeper into the water, letting it come up to his nose. It’s nice having warm water, he’ll say that much. 

He shifts around, water splashing as he tries to get comfortable. In the end, he ends up on his stomach, arms dangling over the edge and chin resting against the edge of the tub. 

His cock rubs against the porcelain walls, and a sharp breath escapes his lips. 

...What was that?

Tentatively, he thrusts forwards again, and there it is again - that strange feeling, like the heat in his stomach is abating, just a little. It’s not bad. Just… strange. 

Sion shifts back around onto his back, and peers at his cock in contemplation. 

From what he knows from his studies, the main purpose of a penis hardening is procreation. It releases semen to be combined with eggs within the ovaries. 

Hesitantly, he reaches a hand down through the water, down to his crotch, and wraps it around his cock. 

So then, how does the semen get _released?_ Hardening must simplify the process of releasing its semen within a vagina. 

Conversely, once its load was released, there should be no reason for it to remain hard. 

So if he could mimic that scenario himself...

Swallowing thickly, Sion cautiously draws his hand up his cock, then down again, water shifting around him. 

It feels… a little like he needs to go to the washroom, to be completely honest. 

He perseveres regardless, careful not to make too much noise. The alcove was decently far from Alba’s cell, but sound did echo in caves. 

Water shifting, Sion keeps on thrusting into his hand. 

It feels stupid. 

Why does he need to do something like this? It was all Alba’s fault. Stupid hero, stupid Alba. He wasn’t even that attractive. Alba certainly never got the girls fawning over him in town. 

(Though that didn’t particularly matter, considering how attractive Alba was to _him._ )

Sion scowls. _Alba_ should take responsibility for his current conundrum. Alba should be the one reaching down and-

A harsh breath escapes his mouth, his thrusts getting a little quicker, rougher. 

Alba smiling at him in that indulgent way. Alba leaning down, kissing him. Alba wrapping a hand around Sion’s cock, taking care of him-

Alba, Alba, _Alba…_

His mind is getting a little fuzzy now with thoughts of Alba and the growing pressure at his crotch. Breathing getting heavier, he keeps up his pace almost on autopilot. 

“Hero…” Sion murmurs in a daze, a little lost in his fantasies. 

The pressure reaches a peak at last and his vision goes white. Sion almost cries out, but manages to bite his cheeks and hold it back at the last second. 

Eyes blown wide, Sion stares down into the water, mind blank. 

(That wasn’t so bad.)

* * *

Sion touches himself again, sometimes, in the weeks that follow. 

Not that often, of course. It’s not like he can do it when he’s sharing an inn room with Crea, or while sleeping in the same cell as Alba. 

But when he manages a night to himself, or a bathroom to himself, he gets in the habit of rubbing one out. It seems to satisfy his body, after all. He runs into fewer issues during the day, even when his thoughts wander to Alba. 

So it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do. 

He still feels embarrassed when Crea comments that he seems more relaxed lately.

(He also feels embarrassed when he looks at Alba and remembers his little fantasies.)

He carefully pushes all of that behind a nonchalant mask as he wanders into Alba’s cave yet again. It’s time for that month’s full day of tutoring. 

“Hero,” Sion calls out, sing-songy. “Have you finished this month’s homework?” 

Alba shoots him a beaming grin from his desk, and Sion’s heart skips a beat. 

“I did,” Alba says, with no little pride.

It wasn’t particularly surprising. When Sion had last visited him a few days ago, Alba was making good progress on his work. 

Sion still clicks his tongue and scowls. “I see.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?!” sputters Alba as Sion steps into the cell, strolls towards Alba. “Did you want to punish me that much?!”

“Punishing you is the highlight of my month!” Sion shoves an accusing finger right into Alba’s face. “Take responsibility, Hero.”

Alba just looks up at him in amused resignation, and Sion falters, just a little. His hand falls back to his side. 

“Alright, Sion,” he says indulgently. 

“...You really are a masochist, aren’t you?” says Sion, shooting Alba his best look of derision. “Gross.”

“I am _not_ ,” Alba says firmly. “I just…” he glances down at his desk, a soft smile floating up on his face. “I’m always happy to see you.”

Sion swallows, blush rushing in his ears. 

“Yes, yes, okay,” Sion says, voice dismissive. “Just get up.”

“Huh?” asks Alba, confused, but he’s already obeying him and standing up. Sion grabs his hand, and Alba flushes a bright red as he repeats- “ _Huh?_ ”

“You finished your work, didn’t you?” Sion says impatiently. “Let’s go outside for a bit.”

“Huh? But-“ Alba swallows, wrapping his fingers in a tentative grip around Sion’s own. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Maybe for the human world,” Sion allows, “But you should have enough control by now to take a brief stroll to a demon town.” He eyes Alba with a dark look. “Shouldn’t you?”

“Yes! Of course!” Alba is quick to say. “I’ve been practicing, like you asked!”

“Good,” Sion says, and smiles. “I want apple pie. Treat me to apple pie.” He pauses. “And lunch, I suppose.”

“H-huh?”

“Huh this, huh that…” Sion snorts. “What are you, a caveman?”

“It’s just all very sudden, okay!” Alba says defensively. 

Sion glances away from Alba’s all-too-bewildered expression. “...Do you not want to go out?”

(Do you not want to go out with _me?_ )

The hand wrapping Sion’s immediately squeezes tight. 

“Of course I do,” Alba says quietly, and Sion swallows. 

“You didn’t have a choice anyways,” Sion says, striding forwards and ignoring Alba’s stumbling behind him as he drags him along. “This is your punishment, after all.”

A laugh. “Right.”

Sion doesn’t like that, so he squeezes Alba’s hand tight. 

“Ouch!”

* * *

It turns out Alba doesn’t actually have any demon world money - irritating but not unexpected - so it’s decided that Sion will foot the bill in the end. 

There’s a flurry of whispers that follow them when Alba and Sion step into the closest town, especially with Alba’s prisoner outfit. It’s no different when they step into the small café Sion has been eyeing for months. 

But no one raises a hand against them, and even the waiter just politely takes them to a table in a far corner. 

Heroes are still viewed as dangerous criminals in the demon world, despite the Second’s best efforts to make people respect Creasion. There were still pockets of demons who actively worshipped Rchimedes regardless, and the general populace who never knew his tyranny was more positive on him than not. 

Alba, however, is now an exception. He may have defeated their venerated First, but he also saved their dear Second. 

Most importantly, the average demon - who generally would have enough magic to sense it in others - was deathly afraid of Alba’s ridiculous mana levels, regardless of whether or not Alba could control it just yet. 

The rumours swirling about exaggerated Alba’s feats to a ridiculous degree, after all. They claimed that Alba single-handedly defeated Rchimedes and an army a thousand demons strong, that he twisted time itself to bring the Second and his wife back to life years after their deaths…

No one was about to risk attacking someone like that. 

So the worst treatment they get is some frightened yelps when they’re spotted. 

Alba doesn’t notice any of that though, head seemingly in the clouds. He looks overjoyed the entire way here, and Sion supposes he can’t blame him - it’s been months since Alba has ventured more than a few paces out from that dim cave and its small cell. 

With a jolt, Sion catches himself gazing at Alba with far too soft of a smile, and quickly composes himself. He slams his foot into Alba’s ankle underneath the table, sharp.

“Ow!” The floaty look on Alba’s face immediately disappears, replaced with a grimace of pain. He whines, “You didn’t have to kick me…”

Sion smiles. 

(Because Alba’s attention is fully on him once more, even if Sion knows that he shouldn’t force it.)

“I’m hungry. Let’s hurry up and order, Hero,” Sion says impatiently. 

“Okay, okay,” Alba says, and they proceed to do just that. 

There’s nothing particularly novel about demon world food. It’s perfectly edible by human standards, and looks perfectly edible as well. So they order, get their food, and have a lovely meal. 

“I wonder if I’m dreaming,” Alba says with a cheerful laugh, midway into their lunch. 

Sion forces himself to stay calm, to not react, because he knows that Alba isn’t happy because of him. He’s happy because he gets to go out, and Sion is nothing but a nice add-on to the main package. 

He opts for a normal response. “Do you want me to pinch you?”

“No!” is Alba’s predictable reply. 

“If you’re sure,” says Sion, injecting a note of disappointment into his voice. He picks up a fry from his plate, pops it in his mouth, swallows, then asks- “Is it that shocking you got to go out?”

“I mean, I’ve been working for this for months, it’s just…” Alba gazes at Sion, gaze soft. “I really missed journeying with you, you know?”

And Sion has to force himself to stay calm again - for a different reason now - because the joy coursing through him would be sure to come out as an utterly humiliating expression if he didn’t control himself. 

He takes another fry from his plate to give himself a little more time to compose his voice, then coughs, once. 

“Well,” Sion says, voice prim, “You need some experience controlling your magic around other people anyways.” 

(And maybe being around other people, even demon strangers, would help alleviate Alba’s loneliness.)

He manages a smirk. “I expect to be paid back with interest for all this food once you’re out of jail, Hero.”

Alba deflates at the cool response, and Sion regrets it, just a little. 

But no matter how much it hurts, he’s trying to place some distance. 

Enough so that he isn’t taking advantage of Alba’s loneliness.

(Never mind that he clearly is.)

* * *

It’s a somewhat awkward rest of lunch. 

That’s why when Sion has paid the bill and they leave the restaurant, he turns to Alba and asks, reluctantly, “Do you want to go ba-“

“-Let’s explore this town!” Alba cuts in, grabbing Sion’s hand tight. His expression is determined - it’s clear he won’t take no for an answer. 

Sion swallows, and, unable to stop himself, nods. 

Alba beams, and off they go. 

There’s not much to see in the town. A small plaza, a smattering of stores - apple trees surrounding the city boundaries. It doesn’t help that Sion passes through this town every month on his way to and from Alba’s cave. He’s already seen most of what there is to see. 

But with Alba’s hand warm around his own, it all seems new and interesting once more. 

Sion is keeping a careful eye on Alba’s mana levels, of course - but they stay remarkably steady, and there’s no reason to tell him that they need to go back. So he relaxes despite himself, more and more. Falls back into their comfortable comedy routine, and-

(Falls more and more in love every time Alba shoots that beaming smile at him.)

At least the apple trees are clad in fall colours, which makes for some nice scenery. And Alba gets weirdly excited about seeing them with Sion, which is another benefit. 

"It's not even fall," Alba says with a laugh, "But I guess it's the Demon World."

"Yeah," Sion says simply.

"They're really pretty!" exclaims Alba.

Sion can't help but smile. 

"Yeah," he says again. "They are."

They end up spending the entire afternoon exploring the town and its outskirts, and grab a nice dinner in a different restaurant in the evening. 

“I really did think this was a dream,” Alba says at dinner, then laughs. “But it’s lasted too long to be one.”

“I suppose for a ex-con, freedom seems like a dream…”

“I’m not an ex-con!” sputters Alba, then shakes his head. “And that’s not why! Look, um,” he coughs, pinking a little. “I’ve been dreaming of you a lot lately.”

Incredulity flashes over Sion’s face for a moment before he contorts his face into a mocking smile. 

“What a coincidence, so have I!”

Alba perks up in surprise. “You’ve been dreaming of me?”

“I’ve been dreaming of me!” chirps Sion - not incorrectly - and Alba just sighs.

* * *

Night has fallen by the time they return to Alba’s cave, Alba’s pace slowing the closer they get to it. 

(Sion’s pace slows too, because he’d happily do anything that meant he could spend a second more with Alba.)

They wave at Februar as they head in, then walk over to Alba’s cell. It doesn’t take long for them to get ready for bed - Sion, for one, is a little tired after being out all day. 

When they’re all settled in each of their beds, Alba calls out to Sion. 

“Hey, Sion?”

Sion’s bed is in the opposite corner to Alba’s, but it’s still plenty close enough to have a conversation. It’s not quite close enough to see Alba’s face though, especially not in the darkness of the cave. 

So Sion doesn’t bother to turn over to face Alba, and just responds, “Yes, Hero?”

A giggle. Alba sounds happy. “It was kinda like a date today, wasn’t it?”

(It was, but Sion would sooner die than admit it.)

“What’s a date?” Sion says, choosing to play dumb. 

“Wha- There’s no way you don’t know what a date is!”

”That word sounds made-up, Hero,” Sion says skeptically. 

“There’s no way you’ve never heard of the _word itself! ‘_ Date’ has other meanings than the romant-“ Alba cuts himself off, coughs. “Oh, whatever. Today was still fun, Sion.”

Sion is silent for a long moment. 

Then, ever-so-quietly, he says- “I’m glad.”

He’s not quite sure if he wants Alba to hear. 

But it seems Alba does, because Sion hears a small, happy laugh coming back in response. 

(It makes him feel warm inside.)

* * *

It doesn’t take too long after that for Alba to leave those caves for good. 

His graduation exam is fraught with more danger than Sion had anticipated, but Alba still passes it with flying colours. Part of him is offended that Alba can fight _him_ to a standstill - part of him is just helplessly proud that Alba can. 

It’s good that Alba has learned to control his magic that well though, because Sion gives up his Mana Maker in the hopes that Salt can get through to his corrupted friend, then immediately gets kidnapped by Elf Fucking November.

(In the months that follow, Sion gets into the habit of sticking that little addendum to Elf’s name.)

It’s bothersome, but not worrisome. Sion knows that Alba will save him, and he does just that. Salt manages to save his best friend, Sion is reunited with his mother and older younger brother, and all’s well that ends well. 

Except for the fact that Alba is barely talking to him anymore. 

“Maybe _you_ should just reach out to _him_.”

“Shut up,” mumbles Sion, face smushed into the white ground. 

“He’s just busy. He doesn’t hate us, you know?”

“Or things are going back to the status quo now that Hero doesn’t need me anymore,” Sion says flatly. 

An exasperated noise hits his ears. “Either way, he doesn’t hate us.”

Reluctantly, Sion shifts himself around to face the black-eyed boy staring down at him. 

“And how can _you_ know that?” Sion demands. 

“I just do,” the boy says, and Sion rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t even care,” Sion says, voice still flat. 

The boy snorts. “Funny.”

Sion scowls up at him. “Fine, I do care. A little. But I saw it coming anyways, so it’s fine.”

“It really isn’t,” hums the boy. “But sure.”

“Just… shut up and let me sleep.”

“But you are sleeping,” the boy points out, and Sion just rolls his eyes. 

“Let me sleep in peace and quiet,” clarifies Sion, not expecting the boy to listen. 

To his surprise, he does. 

“Okay,” the boy says mildly. “I’ll leave then.”

“...Really?” Sion says, a little confused. 

The boy just smiles brightly. “Sleep well, real me.”

Almost immediately, Sion feels his eyes getting heavy. And as he drops into unconsciousness once more, he vaguely hears just a little more-

“If you don’t do anything, then I will.”

* * *

Sion can’t really remember his dream when he wakes up the next morning, feeling groggy. But he’s pretty sure he met that boy again, and so the first thing he does after he wakes up is let out a sigh. 

It can’t be helped. 

Not when everything he’d been afraid of had happened. 

All because of Elf Fucking November. Because he had to die in such a bizarre way. Because he couldn’t just go and off himself without one last hurrah. 

Maybe he’s being a little cruel. Sion thinks he’s allowed to be a little cruel to the demon who revived Rchimedes and left him for dead more than once. 

To the demon who’s stolen all of Alba’s attention for the past few months, _after_ said demon’s death. 

Why was Alba so obsessed with this stupid thing? The damn thorn in their side was finally dead. Wasn’t that good enough?

Apparently it wasn’t, because Alba’s gotten a whole research center made up so he can investigate mysteries like Elf November’s death. 

Sion hadn’t gotten an invite. 

Despite being Alba’s teacher in literally all things magic. 

Sure, some of his time was taken up tutoring Salt. And a little more on reconnecting with his estranged family. But he still had plenty of time left over he could use to help out Alba. Even if he didn’t quite like the cause. 

But that would require an invite to join him, an invite he has not received, and seemingly would never receive. 

(There’s a constant cloud of misery following him wherever he goes.)

* * *

Salt is, quite frankly, a worse student than even Alba. Sion hadn’t thought it possible. 

But Salt is just a kid, so Sion does his best to be patient. 

Even he has his limits though. It doesn’t help that Sion himself had woken up in a rather bad mood, missing Alba and aching everywhere. 

“Let’s end things here for today,” Sion says with a sigh, snapping his notebook closed. “We clearly aren’t getting anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Salt says quietly. Honestly speaking, he looks wretched. 

“...There’s no hurry,” Sion says after a pause. “Review _Algebra II_ before my next visit. I’m sure it’ll help you understand these concepts better.” He shrugs. “If you’re still having trouble, then we can go over _Intermediate Geometry_ together too.”

“Thanks, Ros-san,” Salt says dully. 

The boy still looks miserable, but honestly, Sion isn’t quite sure how to comfort him. It’s not exactly his forte. 

“Do you want me to bring you anything from outside?” offers Sion. 

“Huh?” Salt looks up at him in surprise. 

“Like sweets, or souvenirs, or something,” Sion explains. 

“Oh.” Salt scratches a cheek, looking self-conscious. “Um, I don’t really need anything, but… you’re Lake’s brother, right?”

Sion inclines his head. 

Salt swallows. “Um, do you know- how he’s doing lately?”

“Hero’s dragged him and Lym to his research center,” Sion dutifully responds, though his voice is a little sour. “He needs assistants, apparently.”

And apparently _Hero Creasion_ wasn’t good enough to be his assistant while literal children were. 

“Oh,” Salt says, voice barely audible. He shrinks into himself. “I see.”

Now Salt looks like he’s about to cry. Sion really sucked at this comforting thing, didn’t he?

“Do you want me to get any messages to them?” Sion offers awkwardly. 

Salt just shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Salt nods. “It’ll just be worse not getting a response.”

Well, that was certainly... pessimistic. 

Sion makes a mental note to subtly or not so subtly remind Lake to go visit his friend sometimes. 

“There’s no harm in trying,” Sion says regardless. “I don’t know Lake that well just yet, but I think he just got distracted for a bit.”

“Yeah, distracted by the new and shiny and Hero Alba I’m sure,” Salt says, sounding bitter. 

“But still distracted,” Sion tries, “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. I’m sure if you reach out, he’ll…”

Sion trails off because ah, he was being quite the hypocrite, wasn’t he?

“He’ll?”

“...He’ll start visiting properly,” finishes Sion with an awkward cough. 

Salt stares down at his desk. 

“Do you really think so?” he asks, sounding vulnerable. 

“Of course.”

Salt is silent for a good few moments, looking pensive. Finally, he looks back up at Sion. 

“Could I…” Salt starts hesitantly. “Could I send him a letter?”

Sion smiles down at the boy. 

“Of course.”

* * *

Sion decides he should take his own advice. 

_Took you long enough,_ mutters a voice in his head that Sion pointedly ignores. 

So the next day, he wanders over to the research center and barges into Alba’s laboratory. 

“Hero!” he says brightly. 

Alba doesn’t react. He sits silently, cross-legged on the ground. 

Sion just scowls. 

He really doesn’t like Alba’s lab. It’s a magical dimension - a pure white expanse, with barely any furniture to be seen. It reminds Sion far too much of dreaming, and worse, a dimensional rift. 

But it wasn’t as though Alba had asked his input when making his lab. 

(That thought is a painful reminder of his place.)

Sion stomps up to Alba, then promptly jabs his foot into Alba’s chest. Alba slams into the floor, hard. 

Unsurprisingly, Alba’s eyes flick open with a yelp. 

“Ouch…” grumbles Alba, rubbing the back of his head. He sits up, eyes landing on Sion as he does. “Sion? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see how badly you were doing,” Sion answers cheerily. 

“Why are you assuming I’m doing badly?” Alba complains. 

“ _Are_ you doing badly?” asks Sion, raising an eyebrow. 

Alba grins at him. “Things are going great, actually! I think I‘ve made a lot of progress into where Elf November may have come from. At this rate, I should be able to fix everything within the next couple months!”

...Sion is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kick Alba once more.

“Maybe so,” Sion grants, holding himself back. “But don’t you think it’d go faster with some help?”

“Oh, definitely.” Alba nods. “That’s why I’m getting Lake and Lym to help out with some stuff. Mainly paperwork and such, it’s really annoying having to deal with the King.”

Alba is really not helping his case here.

“What about the magic side of things?” Sion prods, “You don’t have anyone to help you with that, _right?_ ”

“That’s not a problem at all!” Alba exclaims, voice bright. “It’s easier to parse through information from the multiverse myself, after all. I guess I could use some help when I actually end up going through time or dimensional rifts, but I figure by then Salt will have mastered his magic to some extent.”

Sion wants to scream. 

“Isn’t there anyone else who could help?” Sion hints. 

Alba blinks up at him, looking confused. “Huh?”

“With the magic side of things. You know?”

“I don’t really think so?” Alba shrugs. “I’m trying to spread magic among the masses right now, but it’ll take time for people to really learn it properly.”

“No one. No one comes to mind?”

Alba frowns, looking contemplative. “I guess… does Crea-san still have magic?”

“...No.” 

“Then no one, yeah,” says Alba with a nod. 

Sion gives up on holding himself back any longer. He jabs his foot into Alba’s chest again, the sound of another one of Alba’s yelps music to his ears.

Then he flips around.

He gave it a shot.

He reached out. 

Clearly, Alba wasn’t interested in reaching back. 

He didn't particularly care if it was on purpose, or if Alba really was just that dense. It didn't matter either way. He had gotten the message loud and clear.

“Sion?” Footsteps tap tap tap, then there’s a hand lightly resting on his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“Back home,” Sion says coolly. He doesn’t turn around, but he does stop moving. 

“Already?” asks Alba, sounding disappointed.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything more to say,” says Sion, voice going flat. 

“...Are you mad at me?” 

“What do you think, Hero?” Sion sneers. 

There’s silence for a moment, then-

“I _am_ sorry I’ve been busy with hunting down Elf these past few months, you know,” Alba says quietly. “I just- I need to make sure he won’t hurt y- anyone again. Once he’s dealt with...”

Right. Sure. That definitely explained why Alba was so obviously freezing him out of the investigation. Totally. 

“Okay,” says Sion dismissively. He shrugs off Alba’s hand from his shoulder. “See you later.”

He doesn’t wait for Alba to say a goodbye back.

* * *

“Can’t you read between the lines?”

The voice that wakes him up is familiar. The icy tone is not. 

Sion squints up at the boy sitting by his side, arms crossed and scowl evident. 

“What are you talking about?” Sion asks with no little frustration. 

“He’s doing it for _you_ ,” the boy snaps. “He loves you, he wants you to relax while he keeps you safe.”

“Are you talking about Hero?” Sion rubs his forehead, misery welling up again at the reminder. “That’s a lovely fantasy, but it has no basis in reality.”

“It has plenty of basis,” the boy says flatly. “You’re just too much of a coward to see it.”

Sion jerks up and glares at the boy. “I’m not a coward.”

“You are.” the boy sneers, “If you just asked Hero to be yours, he would. He won’t be mine. But he’d be yours, and you’re too much of a coward to even ask.”

“Usually my unconscious doesn’t tell me what I want to hear,” mutters Sion. 

“I’m not your unconscious,” the boy says coolly, then stands up, arms falling to his sides. “I told you, didn’t I? That if you didn’t do anything, I would.”

“And what are you going to do?” asks Sion, mostly just tired at this point. 

“ _I_ love Hero,” the boy says firmly, a bright smile spreading on his face. “We have a bond, even if it might not be as strong as yours. _I_ can do what you won’t.”

The smile dissipates. 

The boy’s eyes narrow dangerously.

And in that moment, Sion’s instincts scream at him to get out of the way. He isn’t fast enough though, especially not in this odd dream world, groggy from lack of sleep. 

In a flash, there’s a hand covering his eyes, gripping his head tight and painfully pushing him into the ground. 

“Spend some time living as a dream, real me,” the boy says coolly. “Maybe then you’ll appreciate what you’ve got.”

“What are you-“

But before he can finish the question, Sion’s vision goes black.

* * *

Ros opens his eyes. 

He opens them slowly, because even the sparse room in Cecily’s small house is a lot to take in. 

Is that… does he hear _birds_ chirping outside? 

He can’t quite help the giddy smile that spreads across his face at that. 

After a little while, he hauls himself out of bed, gets changed. He knows he should probably take this opportunity to change stuff up, but he gravitates to his usual black shirt and olive pants anyways. Thankfully he finds a serviceable set in the wardrobe. 

(Considering that everything had changed, he thinks he’s justified in wanting _something_ to stay the same around him.)

“Sion! Breakfast is ready!” comes a voice from downstairs. 

“Coming!” Ros calls back. 

There’s one last thing he needs to double-check before he goes anywhere though. 

Ros steps into the bathroom, in front of the mirror, then stares at his reflection. 

Black eyes stare back at him for a moment, but that’s a problem easily fixed with a spot of minor magic. One blink later, and red is bleeding through. 

He smiles. 

This wouldn’t be forever. As much as he wanted it to be, he couldn’t do that, not when he knew all too well that _he_ wasn’t the one that Alba loved. 

But he’d enjoy this opportunity for as long as it lasted. 

(His real self was a real idiot for throwing it all away.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags have been updated.** Please review them before you continue. 
> 
> alt. summary: someone give meta ros some therapy.

The very first thing Ros can remember is seeing himself. 

Everything around him white, a boy with dead eyes standing in front of him. Ros somehow knows that the boy is him, and simultaneously, he feels himself choke on immense sorrow. 

And so he cries. He hates himself for doing it, especially in front of an audience - even an audience of one - but he can’t help it. 

The boy, Creasion, watches silently as he breaks down on the ground, and he hates him a little for it. 

(Though he’s not sure if even that feeling of hatred is his own.)

* * *

Ros doesn’t really like to think about those years. 

The real him, Sion, doesn’t like thinking about it either, so that’s one thing they’re in agreement about. They both suffered in different ways back then - Ros, from the weight of all the emotions Creasion couldn’t bear, and Sion from the numb ruthlessness he was forced into. 

What he does love thinking about, however, is Alba. That was another thing that Sion and him were in agreement about. 

It’s a problem though. Because if Sion loves thinking about Alba and forgetting their past, and Ros loves thinking about Alba and forgetting their past-

What makes Ros any different from Sion?

* * *

Neither Sion nor Ros have ever fallen in love before. 

Maybe that’s why they fall so fast. It’s not love at first sight, not quite, but it’s good as, really. Ten minutes of interaction and Ros is intrigued, Sion vaguely interested. 

Granted, part of it is just that the other boy had claimed to be “a chosen hero.” But that wouldn’t be enough to make Sion decide on Alba. Not when he arrives at the castle and sees all the hero candidates he could sneak in beside. Sion could’ve chosen anyone - Ros probably could’ve influenced that decision well enough too. 

Sion sticks with Alba though, and Ros is perfectly happy with that decision. Alba seems like a fun choice, and Sion, Ros both, they miss fun. 

Alba is weak, and honestly a little arrogant. Sometimes he lets his pride get the better of him, other times he throws it away to save his skin. 

Yet despite his flaws, he still tries his best to be a hero. Keeps on going even when he gets thrown into jail, shouts amusing comebacks at Sion when he messes with him… 

Alba is animated. Bright. Colourful. _Fun._

And Ros is drawn into him even more than Sion is. He might have Sion’s memories of his time before becoming Creasion, but they’re not his, not really. Even if he wants them to be. It’s different, seeing someone like Alba himself, building his own memories from his spot in the back of Sion’s mind. 

He even takes the name that Crea had chosen, that Alba calls them, for his own. After all, Sion seems happy to continue thinking of himself as their original name. He might as well use it if Sion wasn’t going to. 

Except then Sion _does_ start using it, and Ros finds himself disappearing. One moment he’s sitting in their mindspace, the next moment days have passed. And yet he remembers what happened. Remembers it like he experienced it himself, not muffled and blurred from the back of Sion’s mind. 

But Sion doesn’t notice anything, which doesn’t make _sense_ , because surely if Ros had been in control then Sion should’ve been punted to the back?

That’s when he realizes the problem. That he must’ve been gone for those days, that-

That their thoughts were so aligned their mind didn’t see the point in separating them any longer. 

Ros refuses to see that happen. He refuses, because that wasn’t _fair._ For years, he had to shoulder everything that Creasion couldn’t bear. His sadness, his anger, his fear- he had survived despite everything. 

And now that Sion was happy, he thought he could discard him like a used rag? No. Sion hadn’t accepted him yet. Sion, _Creasion,_ didn’t get to get off that easily. 

(And deep inside, past the hatred Ros holds towards Creasion-

The feelings Ros has, the person it’s created- it might have been from Sion’s feelings originally, but they’ve diverged now. Ros holds so many feelings that Sion no longer has. 

Ros knows, even if he doesn’t like to admit it, that some of these feelings, these desires, are overwhelmingly depressing. Even dangerous. 

He’s not sure if Sion would survive, having to feel everything himself. 

In the end, Ros was born to protect Sion from himself. He can’t turn away from that duty so easily.)

Ros claws onto his false existence with every bit of power he can muster. He forces himself to think of what he doesn’t want to, because that’s what Sion doesn’t want too. He forces himself to remember the past, properly this time. Reminds himself that Crea is still trapped. Reminds himself that his father is still evil. Reminds himself that he can’t stay with Alba forever, or even for that long. Reminds himself that he has a duty, a duty as Hero Creasion. 

He starts to even believe in it all after a bit, because it’s true. Even if he didn’t want to believe it, even if he just wanted to bask in Alba’s warmth forever. 

It’s enough to bring Sion to their mindscape as he sleeps - he only comes when Ros has something to say to him that his real self hasn’t acknowledged. 

When Sion opens his eyes, lying on the ground as he always does, Ros leans over him and smiles brightly. 

“I miss Crea,” he says with a sigh, and sees Sion flinch.

* * *

Ros hates Creasion, and by proxy Sion. 

Of course he does. He should. How many times had he broken down crying over emotions that weren’t his own? How many times had Creasion watched, impassive, uncaring, refusing to even place a hand on his shoulder in comfort?

It’s getting harder to keep up his hate though.

Because Sion _isn’t_ Creasion. Because while he’s still brusque and still doesn’t accept a single word of what Ros says, he listens. He replies. And Ros can actually see that he’s getting through to him, slowly, unlike with Creasion. 

(It’s harder to keep up his hate for someone who looks so wretched when one of his carefully selected attacks hits too right.

It’s impossible to keep up his hate for the person he’s choosing to protect.)

But as months pass, he finds that while he might not hate Sion, he’s completely, utterly, jealous of him. And that’s pretty much the same thing. 

It’s not Ros that Alba looks at with adoration. It’s not Ros that Alba comes back to, again and again, no matter what hell Sion puts him through. 

If Ros were in charge, he’d shower Alba in love. He’d make sure that Alba knew exactly where he stood, that Alba would never have to worry about a thing again. 

That clearly isn’t what Alba wants though. Isn’t what he _needs,_ even, considering that the weak hero really does need to get stronger. 

(And besides that, Ros is scared. He’s always been scared. 

It’s easy to judge Sion from the safety of his mind, easy to make snide comments and sly suggestions. 

It’s not so easy to make actual decisions.)

Still, Ros is jealous. So terribly jealous. 

It only begins to abate when Ros gets the chance to meet Alba by himself. 

(Of course, that makes it feel all the worse when Alba still chooses Sion over Ros in the end.)

* * *

While of course many things change after Ros and Sion meet Alba, one strange thing that changes just for Ros is this-

He knows things now. 

He doesn’t fully comprehend them, not really. He’s not sure who Haruhara is, doesn’t understand what “editors” or “readers” or “popularity” mean in the context he gets them. 

But he still knows them. And not too long after Sion sacrifices himself once more to seal their father away, Ros finds himself knowing he needs to go somewhere. 

And so by instinct, he slips off into another dreamscape, then immediately stops short, because there, standing in front of him in a black suit was-

Alba, who turns towards him with a smile. 

He doesn’t understand. He’s overjoyed, of course, especially considering that he thought he’d never see Alba again- 

(-and considering he has no one to blame for that other than himself, for whispering insecurities about Crea and Rchimedes into Sion’s mind-)

-but he doesn’t understand. 

It turns out he doesn’t need to though, because in the next moment he knows what to do, if not why. 

“Let’s start the popularity poll announcement, Hero-san,” Ros says.

* * *

It’s far too hectic for a while to investigate anything related to that odd dreamscape. They’re kicked out of the rift by Elf November, reunite with Alba and plan to save Crea for good-

It’s not until everything has settled down - until “season 2” ends, whatever that truly means - that Ros considers it. After Ros has tried and failed to get Sion to visit Alba like they both so desperately want, he decides he needs to take matters in his own hands. 

He managed to meet Alba in a dream once before. That time, he’d been guided unconsciously for a special event - but he’s sure he can manage it consciously as well. Ros hasn’t spent years in a dreamscape for nothing. 

Of course, it’s easier said than done. He remembers slipping somewhere else, but he’s not quite sure how to replicate it. 

It takes the second “popularity poll” coming and going before Ros realizes the trick, understands how he managed to slip through. 

Just like Ros can only drag Sion to their dreamscape when he has something proper to say to him...

Ros can only visit Alba in his dreamscape when he has something about his strange knowledge to convey. 

Well, that should be easy enough to exploit.

* * *

“Good morning, Hero!” Ros says brightly, peering over Alba sprawled out on the ground. He cocks his head to the side. “Or would it be good night?”

It takes some time for Alba to groan and blink his eyes open blearily. He’s less responsive than Sion, it seems. 

Ros is fine with that though. 

(It’s rather endearing.)

“Ros…?” Alba says hesitantly, shifting himself up into a half-sitting position. 

“How long are you planning to sleep, Hero?” chides Ros. “Do you think you can cut it as an anime protagonist like this?”

“What does sleep have to do with being an anime protagonist?” Alba objects, finally standing up fully with a grumble. Then Ros’ words seem to finally register properly in his head, because he blinks and asks- “Wait, _anime?_ ”

“Haven’t you heard?” Ros asks, voice cheery. “We’re getting an anime adaptation! You need to shape up, Hero!” He pauses. “Though, we’ll probably just get one season then never see the light of day again.”

“You don’t need to be so negative,” Alba says with a sigh. He glances around. “What is this, anyway? I hope it’s an omake. We shouldn’t be doing meta talk like this in the main story.”

 _Meta,_ Ros thinks to himself. Was that what the strange knowledge was called? 

(He likes the sound of it.)

“It’s neither,” Ros says, because Alba is looking to him for a response. “I just came to visit!”

Alba blinks, looking confused. “You can do that?”

“Of course I can,” says Ros, voice condescending, “My love guides me.”

“Right…” Alba says, sounding skeptical. But he softens after only a moment. “Well, I guess it’s fine.” A helpless smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad to see you, after all.”

“Did you miss me, Hero?” Ros asks, mostly teasing. 

“Every day,” Alba answers immediately, dead serious. 

Ros swallows thickly, the joy welling in his chest overwhelming. “I- That’s good.”

Then Alba takes his hand into his own, lacing their fingers together, and Ros’ composure breaks. He feels his face heat, and the only saving grace is that Alba seems to be in the same situation. 

“S-since you’re here in my dream and all,” Alba says awkwardly, not meeting Ros’ gaze. “I, um, had somewhere I wanted to go with you...” he trails off into a mumble, “I mean, if you want to...”

Ros tightens his hand around Alba’s. 

“Lead the way, Hero.”

* * *

Alba takes him to a memory, but it’s not quite right. Trees surround them, full of leaves coloured in bright reds and oranges and yellows. The ground is littered with freshly fallen leaves, but there’s still few enough that green grass peeks out from place to place. 

They came here once, during the year they journeyed together. A famous tourist attraction apparently, well-known for its beautiful fall colouring - Alba had jumped at the chance to pass through on the way for a quest. 

But it had been too late when they came - the trees’ branches had been almost empty then, the leaves on the forest floor brown and rotting. 

“We’ll come here next year,” Sion had said at the time, because Alba’s disappointment had been getting too obnoxious to bear. 

Alba had cheered up a bit at that. 

(Next year never happened, obviously.)

“I came here with Rchi,” Alba says quietly, hand clenching a little tighter onto Ros. “During the year you were gone.”

“I see,” Ros says, equally quietly. 

“This year for sure, I wanted to come here with you,” Alba continues, face beginning to crumple. “But I guess it’s not happening again.” He composes himself a bit, flashing Ros an obviously forced smile. “I guess you can go visit with Crea-san.”

“...Don’t be stupid, Hero,” says Ros. 

“Huh?” 

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” 

It’s not what Alba really wants. Ros can see it in his eyes. A dream isn’t enough- he wants reality. 

(Ros isn’t enough- he wants Sion.)

But still, the smile that lights on Alba’s face at those words is a little less forced than before. 

“Yeah,” Alba says, a bit cheerier. “You’re right.”

* * *

As Sion increases his visits in the real world, Ros increases his visits in the dreamscape. He always has to start off his visits with some miscellaneous “meta” trivia - but once that’s done with, he seems to be free to stay as he wishes, at least until either Alba or Sion awaken. 

Alba grows happier and happier, both in his dreams and out, and Ros decides that he deserves the majority of the credit. _Sion_ , after all, didn’t even go visit Alba every night. 

He ignores how excited Alba gets the nights before Sion’s designated full tutoring days, how happy he is when he gets to see Sion even for a bit before he sleeps. 

(He ignores how much Alba still misses Sion, despite spending every night with Ros.)

They go around through locations in their shared memories. The wastelands are ugly, but they still have good memories there - sharing a meal after Alba catches a rabbit for the first time, stupid stories told around a campfire. 

Ros prefers the cities the most though. Mostly the sweets shops. 

He would’ve thought that Alba wouldn’t care for them as much - considering he was usually just left to foot the bill for Sion’s massive sweet tooth - but Alba’s indulgent now. Alba watches with a smile as Ros tries out (always, always tasteless- it is a dream, after all) food from across the table. 

They have their first kiss in a sweets shop. 

“The texture isn’t bad,” Ros says with a sigh, letting his spoon clatter into the table. “But the best part of a parfait is its taste.”

“I’ll take you here in real life, once I’m out,” Alba instantly promises. 

...Take Sion here, more like. 

“Thanks, Hero,” Ros just says listlessly. 

“Is it really that tasteless?”

“Try it yourself if you’d like,” says Ros, nudging the parfait towards Alba. 

Alba picks up a spoon to try a small bite, but immediately just grimaces, placing the spoon back down. “Yup, you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Ros says primly. 

They sit quietly for a little while. Alba is always the more interested in making conversation- when he falls silent, Ros often finds himself not sure what to say. 

So he waits. It isn’t as though he dislikes this, being with Alba in this way. 

Finally, Alba coughs loudly. “You know, Ros.”

“Yes, Hero?” Ros says. 

“I, um,” Alba starts. To Ros’ confusion, Alba begins to blush. “You know. Have you ever wondered if, uh, everything is tasteless here?”

“Everything?” Ros echoes. 

Alba nods furiously. “Yeah. Um… yeah.”

“I would imagine so, Hero,” Ros says, rather confused. “Any food we’ve tried hasn’t had taste.”

“What if, uh, it wasn’t food.”

Ros furrows his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

“Like. I mean.” Alba visibly swallows. “Uh. Lips?”

“I’ve had beef tongue before, but I don’t think I’ve ever had beef _lips._ ”

“R-right…” Alba is tomato red now. He shifts his gaze to his lap. “Of, of course not.”

Staring at Alba furiously blushing, Ros finally catches a clue. 

“ _Ah,_ ” he says, smile spreading across his face. “I see, Hero. I wouldn’t mind testing that out.” He reaches out, cups a hand around Alba’s cheek. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Eyes widening, Alba jerks his gaze back up. “Really?”

“Of course,” Ros says brightly, “I love you, after all!”

Something changes in Alba’s eyes at that, and it makes part of Ros want to shrink back. He said something wrong. 

(Said something Sion wouldn’t.)

But Ros is nothing if not stubborn, so he stays in place. 

He’s rewarded for his patience. 

“Then, um,” Alba swallows again. “I’ll… come closer?”

After Ros gives a nod of assent and pulls back his hand, Alba scoots his chair around the table. It clanks against Ros’ chair. 

Alba reaches an arm around Ros, caresses his waist gently as he gazes into Ros’ eyes. His face is still red, but he sports a determined expression. 

Ros can’t help but smile, even as he feels the heat rising up on his face as well. 

(Alba was so _close._ )

He flicks his eyes closed, because his heart felt as though it would explode if he stared into Alba’s eyes for even a moment longer. 

Then he feels lips pressing against his own, and he figures his heart will explode either way. 

Alba’s hand slowly traces up his body. Once it reaches his head, threads through his hair, Ros holds back a yelp when he feels something wet touching his lips. 

Right. Tasting. 

Except his lips open for a moment, and then Alba’s tongue is _dipping into his mouth_ , tracing over his own tongue-

Ros’ mind short-circuits, and his mouth slams shut- he hears Alba cry out in pain, jerking backwards. 

As Ros’ eyes open, he sees Alba looking at him with a mournful expression. 

“What was that for?” Alba complains. 

In this moment, Ros can intimately understand Sion’s constant desire to insult their hero. 

“Pervert,” Ros accuses, flushing. “Disgusting.”

“Wh-what?” 

“You put your _tongue_ in me,” continues Ros with a scowl. 

“Ah,” Alba says, flushing as well, “I- you said that-“ he shakes his head, reconsidering, then says firmly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done an open-mouthed kiss without asking explicitly.”

Oh. 

Right. 

Open-mouthed kisses. Now that Alba mentions it, he does vaguely remember hearing about them as a kid, in broad strokes. 

(And it hadn’t felt bad having Alba’s tongue in his mouth, just… surprising.)

He definitely wasn’t going to let Alba know he forgot about what they were though. 

Ros glances to the side, embarrassed. “Next time, say what you’re going to do first.”

Alba makes a surprised noise, but Ros refuses to turn to face him. 

(He can easily imagine the wide smile on Alba’s face either way.)

“Of course!” exclaims Alba.

* * *

Alba gets even more touchy-feely after that. Ros doesn’t hate it, but he also does hate it because, well. 

Sion might be able to deal with his little problems easily enough, because it’s not so hard to sneak off to bathrooms at night. 

It’s a little harder for Ros to surreptitiously tuck it away when Alba is pressing him against a wall in some miscellaneous landscape, tongue shoved down his throat. 

At first, it’s okay. Alba clearly only has a vague idea of what he’s doing, and sometimes it doesn’t turn out so well. When Ros is distracted by the pain of accidentally clacking their teeth together, he’s too distracted to be turned on. 

But while Alba may not be a fast learner, he is _a_ learner, and they’re certainly getting enough practice in for Alba to improve. 

To improve a little too much. 

“Mmph,” Ros makes a strangled noise, but Alba just dips in deeper, caressing his hair in a way that feels so very nice, but that was the problem-

Ros tries lightly pushing at Alba next, and thankfully, that’s enough to get the message across. Alba immediately pulls back, a questioning look in his eyes. 

“Are you okay, Ros?” he asks. 

“Of course!” Ros says brightly. “Let’s stop here for today, Hero.”

(Please don’t look down.)

Alba looks a little disappointed, but he nods. But then his eyes flick downwards, and Ros wants to die right then and there. 

“I-I’ll be heading out then,” Ros says quickly, feeling his face burn.

“Wait, um,” Alba stammers out, grabbing Ros’ hand tight. 

He’s flushing as well, which makes Ros feel a little better. 

Ros pauses despite himself. “Yes?” 

“If, um, this is about.” Alba flushes harder. “You know, uh. Down below. W-why don’t we, um, do something about it. Together, I mean.” He swallows visibly. “Only. Only if you want to!”

Blinking, Ros stares at Alba, then opens his mouth hesitantly- “What were you thinking of?”

“Um. Grinding, maybe?” Alba suggests weakly. “Or- handjobs.”

...Ros has absolutely no clue what Alba is suggesting. 

“If you’d like, Hero!” Ros says, voice cheery. “Either is fine with me.”

But he wasn’t about to admit that. If he didn’t like it, he’s sure he could get Alba to stop easily enough anyways. 

“A-are you sure?” 

“I’ll be very obvious about it if it turns out I’m not,” Ros says dismissively, and that seems to chip away at some of Alba’s worry. 

“Okay,” Alba says, sounding a little encouraged now. He steps forwards, pressing Ros back against the wall- which was beginning to feel awfully soft to the touch, despite looking like standard brick. 

_The benefits of a dreamscape_ , Ros thinks idly, because it’s safer to think about than anything else at the moment. 

He certainly appreciates it a moment later, when Alba presses their lips together again, pushing Ros’ head harder against the wall as he does. Ros closes his eyes, lets his mouth open, and Alba happily hums and slips his tongue in. 

Ros reaches out to embrace Alba, draw him nearer, and Alba certainly doesn’t seem to object. Hands trace down his hips, landing rather lower than usual. 

On his behind. 

A surprised yelp is swallowed by Alba when Ros feels him squeeze lightly. Alba draws back at that, opens his mouth to say something with furrowed brows- but Ros immediately leans back in, and so Alba settles. 

Alba gives his cheeks another squeeze, and while Ros doesn’t really understand what the other hero likes so much about them, he does like that Alba likes it. 

He likes it even more when Alba grinds their hips together, and ah- so that’s what Alba had meant. Rolling his hips forwards, he moans into Alba’s mouth. It seems to be the right decision, because Alba’s hands flit back up to his hips to let Alba grind him into the wall, which Ros fully encourages. 

Thanks to Sion, he’s gotten rather familiar with getting himself off lately, and well, he does rather enjoy the feeling. But feeling Alba’s hard cock rubbing against his own, even through layers of fabric, already feels dozens of times better than getting himself off alone. He gladly reciprocates, thrusting forwards to get more that lovely pressure, slipping his tongue over Alba’s-

Alba breaks their kiss, gasps out, voice breathy- “ _Ros-_ “

His hands scramble at Ros’ hips, trying to position him just right, so they can grind at that right spot. Ros feels his breathing get rough as Alba succeeds, the pleasure rising higher and higher. 

Wanting to see Alba, his eyes crack open a bit. 

And his mouth immediately goes dry. 

Alba’s face is dazed, panting in pleasure, and it just looks so, so-

Ros lets out a shuddering breath, his hips stuttering as his cock strains in his pants. It hasn’t been that long, but, Alba looks so _good_ , and the arousal is welling up so high… in the next moment, his vision sparks, and he’s coming, fingers clawing at Alba’s back as his cock spills out its load. 

He collapses against Alba’s shoulder, boneless. He feels Alba’s grip tighten around him, keeping him straight as Alba begins rutting into his leg. 

“Ros,” Alba breathes, lips brushing his ear, “Ros. Ros…”

Ros’ cock is soft, his underpants starting to feel sticky and uncomfortable, but he still feels arousal pooling in him as Alba pants out his name into his ear. He holds back a whimper, satisfies himself by squeezing Alba tighter against him. 

With a loud moan, Alba thrusts against him one last time, then shudders, his grip around Ros loosening. 

They both slide down the wall, collapsing on the floor. 

“I, I liked that,” pants out Alba, and Ros - perhaps a bit retroactively - flushes. It’s not his fault though, because Alba is looking at him so adoringly- it’s embarrassing. Terribly embarrassing. 

“I,” Ros swallows. “I did too.”

“Let’s do that again,” Alba suggests immediately, and Ros almost chokes. 

He holds back the defensive insults threatening to spill out of his mouth, because _he_ wasn’t Sion, and _he_ wasn’t going to insult Alba for suggesting something he wanted to do. 

Once he was recovered a bit, at least. 

“...Give me a moment.”

* * *

Alba seems to know a lot of things he wants to do, if not the exact details of how to do them. Ros knows neither, which means Alba lucks out. 

Because he has absolutely no metric of comparison when say, Alba sits him down and proceeds to suck him off, Ros’ voice going hoarse from his cries of pleasure. 

It makes Sion’s incessant worrying about Alba liking him seem all the more ridiculous. Yes, Sion, hold back on that hug. It’s not as though Alba was dreaming about having your mouth on his cock last night. Definitely makes sense to keep your distance. 

(His jaw still aches.)

So Ros takes pity. Slips in, reaches out to Alba for brief moments when Sion is being especially self-defeating. 

He can’t comprehend why Sion is acting this way. Sion should see perfectly well that Alba loves him, loves him so much a fractured mirror like Ros can’t even compare. 

But he seems to think that somehow Alba’s love is conditional, that it’s only due to “circumstances”. That as soon as Alba leaves prison, he’d forget about Sion and move on with his life. 

Even putting aside how nonsensical that idea is, Ros doesn’t understand why this was an issue at all. If Alba really did try to leave them, all they’d need to do was recreate the circumstances. 

It’s not like Alba is any stranger to being locked up at this point. He’s sure that they might get Alba to even appreciate it, if they lock him up in a nice room in a nice house. 

A nice, plush bed, maybe, and anything he might ask for. They could bring him his Kumacchi too, if he really wanted, and maybe not mock him too much for it. Much better than his usual accommodations of a prison cot and a concrete floor.

Why would Alba have any reason to complain?

He brings it up to Sion, once, in an attempt to get the other boy to actually do something about his feelings. Only once, because Sion’s reaction to it is surprisingly stony. 

“Hero would hate us for it,” Sion says flatly. 

“Maybe at first,” Ros says, voice dismissive. “But he loves you too much to hold onto that hate for long.”

“That’s-” Sion’s face contorts. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point then?” asks Ros, confused. “If he’ll love you either way-”

“The point,” Sion cuts in, “is that we’re not that far gone. And…” He looks towards the ground, and murmurs, “There’s no point if he doesn’t come to us.”

“There’s no point if he’s not with us.”

“We’ll survive,” Sion says firmly.

Will they, really?

But Sion’s expression leaves no room for discussion, and so Ros backs off there. 

(This must be one of the feelings he’s protecting Sion from.)

* * *

Alba is stupidly gentle with Ros. 

Ros would’ve thought that Alba would let himself go a bit, considering it was a dream. Take his pleasure from Ros and go. 

Then he supposes that Alba might be holding back out of consideration. Because while Ros succeeded in hiding his utter cluelessness about some things, it was a bit difficult to hide everything. And Alba, unfortunate as it was, had realized at some point that Ros had even less idea of what he should be doing than Alba when it came to sex. 

(It was a little hard to hide when Alba suggested he finger him and Ros, lost, proceeded to poke him. 

After that little truth came out, he couldn’t meet Alba’s eyes for multiple nights straight.)

So Ros supposes it would’ve been a little gauche, for Alba to treat him roughly when he knew so little. 

But that shouldn’t be an issue now. They’ve slept together plenty- and while both Alba and Ros have improved since their awkward first try, Alba remains as gentle as ever. 

In truth, Ros is unsatisfied. 

He wants Alba to be rougher. To fuck him into the mattress until his mind is in a daze, to drag his legs apart and screw him as deep as his cock would go. 

The embarrassment is what stops him from asking for more. He might not be as much of a sadist as Sion, but still- the sadist, asking to be screwed silly by a masochist. He thinks he would die from the shame. 

Maybe Sion could manage it, with whatever strange justifications he could muster. He can’t. 

It’s not bad though, the soft sex that Alba likes so much. It’s just… not completely satisfying. He’s careful not to show it though, because honestly, Alba’s happiness is more than enough. 

And Alba is definitely always happy after a round of sex, snuggling close and smiling brightly. 

“Meta Ros,” Alba calls him once, as they’re lying in bed. 

Ros blinks in confusion. “Meta Ros?”

“Because you’re always meta,” Alba says with a laugh. “And you’re Ros, but not.”

But not. 

“I see,” Ros says, and smiles sadly.

* * *

Ros, despite his snide comments, utter jealousy, and mild resentment, has never considered taking full control for all that he’s capable of it. 

He may have considered it back at the start. When they were Creasion, when Ros had no name but Creasion’s own. After all, he hated Sion then from the bottom of his heart. Even if he was just a fake, even if he knew he could never truly take Sion’s place - he’d still want to try, out of spite. 

But he wasn’t able to take control back then, he’s fairly sure. He was too weak, or too different to Creasion. Whatever the reason, he’s sure he couldn’t, and more importantly, didn’t even know it was an option. 

Things are different now. He could take full control, if he really wanted to. He could do more than whisper into Sion’s mind during the day, more than just taking control for a brief moment to press Alba against their chest. 

It’s not Ros that Alba loves though, and that’s one thing that stays his hand. He can’t take Sion away from Alba, he can’t bear to see Alba look at him with disdain. 

(The other thing, of course, is that there's no point in Ros protecting Sion from the dangerous feelings that reality could bring, if Sion doesn't need that protection.)

It’s because Sion exists that Alba accepts him in his dreamscape, even if he frowns sometimes, when Ros says something wrong. Something that reveals himself as the flawed replica he is. 

However, that requires that Sion be with Alba in reality. And Sion seems to be doing his utmost to prevent that from happening.

The final straw is Sion completely misreading Alba’s intentions in putting him at arm’s length. 

Ros is just so tired, tired of the misunderstandings, tired of Sion, tired-

(Tired of not having what he wants.)

So he takes over. 

“Spend some time living as a dream, real me,” Ros says coolly, shoving Sion into the ground none-too-gently. “Maybe then you’ll appreciate what you’ve got.”

And before Sion can even respond, he flings him into the recesses of their consciousness.

* * *

Reality is more troublesome than Ros anticipated. He didn’t realize how annoying it would feel, not being able to go where he pleased just by imagining it. He didn’t realize how uncomfortable it would feel, to not have any control over his surroundings. 

In truth- Ros had been afraid he’d love reality too much. Love it so much he’d never want to go back to the dreamscape. 

But that would make him into a villain. An interloper, taking over Sion’s body, trying to take Alba for himself. The antagonist of a classic love story, where Alba would see through his fake persona to drag Sion back out, and banish Ros to be never seen again. 

“How could you tell?” Sion would ask, once Ros was dead and gone. 

“I love you, of course I could tell,” Alba would say. 

Barf. Ros was intimately familiar with cliché tropes like that. 

He had been afraid he’d love reality enough to risk even that. 

It seems like that won’t be the case though, thankfully. Thus far, reality has not really bought him over. 

Though it does have its pros too. Namely, sweets. Ros is eagerly anticipating his first taste of some proper sweets. 

Unfortunately, breakfast that morning is fairly regular fare - eggs, rice, assorted vegetables. He means to get through his share quickly, so he could head out sooner, but-

Sweets might be his favourite, but even this simple meal is so delicious compared to anything he’s tasted before.

“I’m glad you like it, Sion,” Cecily comments with a smile, watching Ros enthusiastically devour the food. 

“It’s good,” Ros says truthfully. 

So he ends up spending more time than he expected at the breakfast table, but once that’s done with, Ros makes a beeline towards the town’s shopping district. 

Perhaps going around to different cafes and sweets shops has nothing to do with his main goal, but he thinks Sion will forgive him for straying a little. 

And if he doesn’t, well- Ros doesn’t particularly care. He’s doing this for himself, not Sion. 

It’s just so _delicious._ It’s all food he’s tasted before, through Sion, but it’s always been a bit muted before. A degree of separation, between him and their tastebuds. 

There’s no such separation anymore, and Ros makes a mental reminder to apologize to Sion if they get a bit chubby before he leaves. 

Then pops another strawberry daifuku into his mouth and makes a satisfied noise. 

But he runs into some more limitations of reality when running around different shops. 

First- other people were such a _chore._ When Sion was waiting around for things, Ros usually chose to doze off or walk through a memory until it was over. There’s no such option when he’s waiting in line in a packed café. 

Second- money ran out too quick. 

Sitting on a park bench, Ros opens his now-empty wallet with a sigh. Nope, no money had mysteriously appeared since he last checked. 

(Since he’s hearing no complaints from Sion, he’s guessing that Sion hasn’t figured out how to communicate with Ros while he’s conscious. 

It makes things easier for Ros, so he’s fine with that.)

Ros leans back against the bench, staring up at the blue sky and rubbing at his stomach. 

He guesses this is a sign he should go and visit Alba now. 

His stomach lets out a painful gurgle. 

...Maybe after his stomach settles down.

* * *

Once his stomach has settled down adequately, Ros heads off to the research center. It’s an obnoxiously long trek. He doesn’t understand why Sion chose to live so far away. 

Yeah, sure, so his “mother” and “brother” lived here. He doesn’t understand why Sion cares about them. They were strangers. 

No, worse than that-

They were the people that his father killed for, without even batting an eye. 

They were the people that his father killed him and Crea for, without even an ounce of regret. 

A lot of Ros’ memories prior to them becoming Creasion are blurry and indistinct. But he remembers that one moment so very well. That feeling of betrayal, of pure hatred, of complete despair. 

It’s the moment he was born, he thinks. It was that night that he met Creasion for the first time. 

Maybe that’s why it feels so visceral. 

Thirteen years he spent with his father. Twelve years, just him and Rchimedes and Crea. As soon as he could walk, Rchimedes placed him in charge of working for food, doing household chores, all of it. All so his father could dedicate himself into his experiments. 

All for Cecily and Lake. 

Twelve years and Ros hadn’t even managed to register in his father’s mind as family compared to them, despite all he had done for him. 

Ros has warmed to Crea, from his vague memories and the more distinct year they’ve spent with him. If Sion had chosen to live closer to Crea than Alba, Ros would’ve accepted it readily enough. He supposes Crea might deserve a spot in their heart.

He doesn’t think the same for Cecily and Lake. 

It’s not personal though. 

(Well, not too personal.)

He doesn’t understand why Sion chooses to spend time with a lot of people. Salt is an annoying kid. Alles is money-obsessed. Hime-chan… he can’t think of any criticisms that wouldn’t be utterly hypocritical, but the point is, she isn’t Alba. 

Why did they need anyone but Alba, and maybe Crea? 

Ros just doesn’t understand.

* * *

When Ros barges into Alba’s laboratory, the other hero is again sitting on the floor, eyes closed, legs crossed. 

He supposes kicking him like Sion did would probably work, but he’s not Sion, so he opts for a different method. 

Embracing him from behind. 

“Herooo,” he calls out loudly into Alba’s ear, squeezing his arms tight around Alba. 

Alba’s eyes flick open almost immediately. 

His face flushes red almost as quickly. 

“S-Sion?” he stammers out, straining to look behind him. “What- what are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” Ros says, nuzzling his nose into Alba’s neck. 

“Um?!”

After pressing a kiss against Alba’s neck, Ros shuffles back and stands himself back, dusting off his pants. “You seem to be awake now, though.”

Alba opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it immediately after, looking up at Ros with a dazed look in his eyes. Ros holds back a laugh- it looks like Alba has completely short-circuited. 

But as amusing as Alba’s reaction is, he has an actual goal for coming here. 

He puts a hand on his hip. “Hero.”

Alba shakes his head rapidly, the dazed look in his eyes fading a little. “Y-yeah?”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Uh.” Alba visibly swallows. “Are you mad?”

“...You could say that,” decides Ros. 

While Sion was partly to blame for being a coward, and refusing to just ask for what he could have… even Ros has to admit it’s not all Sion’s fault. 

Alba just had to go distance himself as soon as he left jail. 

Ros admits he might have a slight advantage in the matter, considering Alba seems to be happy to cry into his chest at night about how he just wants Sion to be _happy_ , to be safe, to never have to worry about anything again…

Sion doesn’t have that context.

So, if anything was going to change permanently, once he was back in his dreamscape- he needed to get Alba to understand what he had done wrong. 

“I’m sorry…” says Alba, voice mournful. 

“Do you know what you’re sorry for?” Ros asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Um. A bad magic spell...?” Alba suggests hesitantly. 

Ros rolls his eyes. “Try again.”

“Was it someone’s birthday?” Alba tries next. He pales. “Was it _your_ birthda-”

“-No,” Ros says flatly, pinching his nose. He gets the sense they’ll get nowhere like this, so he decides to say it bluntly- “Hero.”

“Yes!”

“Do you really think I’d rather goof around than be with you?”

Alba blinks up at him. “Er…?”

“Why,” Ros enunciates precisely, “are you cutting me out.”

“C-cutting you out?” Alba stammers out. 

“Yes,” Ros continues. He cocks his head to the side. “Is it for yourself? Was it traumatizing seeing me almost dead?”

Alba flinches. “I…”

“I’d be safer if you stuck by me, you know,” Ros says, “I’d be happier too. I think you’d be happier too.”

“But, um,” Alba says hesitantly. His eyes flick downwards. “You deserve to rest… and your family…”

“It’s not really a contest between the man I love and estranged family, you realize.”

Alba visibly freezes. In a slow, staggered, movement, he moves his gaze back up at Ros. 

“What?” he chokes out. 

“The man I love. You. Keep up, Hero,” Ros says impatiently. 

Alba does not appear to be keeping up, judging from the shell-shocked expression on his face. Ros continues regardless. 

“Anyways, putting that aside-”

“-What do you mean, _putting that aside?!_ ” Alba sputters, seemingly shaking off the shock for long enough to cut in with a retort. 

Ignoring him, Ros continues, “Putting that aside, we’re currently friends, are we not?”

“If, um, you wanted that to change, I mean, I wouldn’t-”

Ros gives Alba a cold look. “We’re currently friends, are we not?”

“...Yes,” Alba says, pressured into submission. 

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be telling me I should go home and do nothing?” demands Ros, “It’s not like I don’t need money, you know. I need some income somehow. Sweets are expensive.”

“Since when were sweets a necessi-”

Ros raises an eyebrow. Alba shuts up. 

“So,” continues Ros, waving a hand dismissively. “I want money, and I want to be with you. I don’t care much about ‘resting.’” He snorts. “Unless you’ve suddenly decided to marry me, accept that the easiest way for you to let me do that is just let me help you with this.”

That should do it. He doubts that Alba would disagree at this point, and he’s said enough that even Sion would be hard-pressed to mess it up. 

He peers down at Alba. 

The other hero is strangely quiet, brows furrowed. What was he thinking about? Ros thought he had been fairly straightforward…

“Okay,” Alba says finally, looking up at Ros. There’s an odd resolve in his eyes, but Ros shrugs it away. The important thing is that Alba understands. 

“I’m glad you-”

Reaching up, Alba suddenly takes Ros’ hands into his own, and Ros cuts himself off, blinking. 

Alba smiles the brightest Ros has ever seen, and says- “I’ll marry you.”

 _What,_ Ros thinks. 

“What?” Ros says. 

“I’ll marry you,” Alba repeats, tugging at Ros to pull him to his feet. Eyes soft, Alba continues, “Happily.”

“Um.”

Ros is at a loss for words. 

“I do want to take care of this Elf thing first, of course,” Alba says with a nod. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it if something happened to you again because of him. So I have to make sure he’s not a threat anymore. His death was way too strange… I don’t trust it.”

What was this idiot saying?

“But we can get engaged right away!” Alba says happily. “What kind of engagement ring do you want? Oh, I guess we can just go pick a matching pair together.”

Ros makes a strangled noise. 

“I was thinking of staying at home for a few years to keep my mom from getting as lonely,” Alba continues, “But I’m sure I can wrangle out a proper house from the castle, somewhere near Mom. We can move in together right away, if you want.”

“...Hero.”

Ros finally finds his voice. 

“Yeah?”

“You… realize that we aren’t dating, right?” Ros asks carefully. 

“Yeah?” Alba says again, sounding confused. 

...Was this his fault? 

He knew that Alba didn’t seem to remember everything from their dreams in the waking world, but the impressions probably remained. 

Had Alba, sometime over the past year, reclassified Sion in his mind from ‘friend’ to ‘lover’? Enough to _propose_ to him?

“It seems you aren’t aware,” Ros says brightly, “But generally people date before marriage!”

“I know,” Alba says simply. 

…Did this idiot hero forget _he_ was supposed to be the one calling people out, not the other way around?!

“Then…” Ros trails off, not sure what to say again. 

“But I love you, and you love me, right?” Alba smiles at him again, cheeks dusted pink. “And if you’ll rest and stay safe if I marry you, it’s a win-win.”

“I didn’t even say yes yet, Hero!”’

Alba deflates a little at that. “Do you… not want to?”

…Sion was going to kill him. 

Sion was _really_ going to kill him. And then Alba, for good measure. And then he’d bring them both back to life to kill them again. 

Ros was almost certain that Sion was screaming in his mind for him to stop. 

But, well. 

From Ros’ perspective, they’d been dating a while anyways. And-

He really didn’t have the strength to turn down a _marriage proposal_ from Alba. A personal invitation for Alba to become theirs. 

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say no. 

(Especially since if this were because of _his_ nightly visits…

It would be as though the proposal was for him, not Sion, wouldn’t it?)

“I… want to,” Ros says quietly, feeling his face heat. “I… would love to.”

Alba smiles brightly.

* * *

“One day,” Sion says, expression dead. He’s sitting on the white expanse of a floor, head drooped in his hands. 

“One day,” Ros agrees, sitting next to him. 

“I can understand using all of our money on sweets,” Sion says flatly, “I do that sometimes as well.”

“You do that a lot, yes,” Ros agrees again. 

“But,” Sion says. He turns his head towards Ros. “How did you get _engaged_ to _Hero_ in _one day?!_ ”

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” Ros admits. 

“I have no other choice,” Sion mutters to himself, “I have to kill Hero.”

Ros snorts. He knows Sion isn’t actually serious. Probably. 

But he eyes Sion curiously. 

“Sion,” he says.

“Yeah?” responds Sion. 

“You aren’t mad at me?” Ros frowns. “You don’t want to try to take back control?”

“Why would be I mad at you?” Sion asks. A long-suffering sigh escapes his mouth. “You’re me. You’re my unchecked desires wreaking havoc. It’s my own fault for not dealing with it earlier.”

Right, that explanation of his. 

...He’s surprised, honestly. That after all of this, Sion still accepts R- still _thinks_ that Ros is himself. 

“Shouldn’t you still want to take back control though?” Ros prods. When he had fallen asleep that night, he had fully expected a fight. 

“I’m not dumb enough to think I can win in your turf without a bit more planning,” Sion says bluntly, then shrugs helplessly. “And I’m also hoping you’ll settle down once we get it out of our system.”

“You’ll still be engaged to Hero at the end of it though.”

Sion buries his face back into his hands.

* * *

Ros should be stepping back now. 

Sion clearly isn’t as unwilling or uncooperative as Ros had expected he’d be. If Ros stepped back now, he’d probably still go through with the engagement, albeit with a lot more embarrassment than Ros would have.

Neither of them can see themselves with anyone but Alba, Ros knows that much. They might not have expected to be married off so quick, but in a calm state of mind, Ros doubts Sion would want to let go of Alba so easily. 

...But Ros doesn’t want to step back. 

If this was because of him, Ros thinks he deserves a bit more time with Alba in the real world. He’ll step back eventually. Just not now. 

So for now, he’ll stay. 

* * *

“Are you really okay with marrying me?” Alba asks, for the tenth time that day. 

“Yes,” Ros answers, for the tenth time that day. 

They’re on their way to a jewelry store that Alba had apparently determined to be the ideal store based on a furious amount of research in the last few days. Ros is vaguely amused at how much Alba worried about it. 

Ros hasn’t told anyone about their engagement yet, and it seems Alba hasn’t either. He had thought about telling Crea at least, but decided against it in the end. 

Once he told Crea, everyone would know. Best to leave it to Sion to decide when to tell him. 

“It’s really sudden though,” mutters Alba to himself. He bites his lip briefly. “Your family probably won’t be okay with it… my mom might care, my dad probably won’t though… I want you, but I don’t want you to get into trouble...”

“Hero,” Ros says with a sigh, coming to a stop. 

Alba jolts. “Y-yeah?”

“You’re a legendary hero who’s saved the world twice over,” Ros says flatly. “You have so much power you’re making criminals stop doing bad just out of fear of your existence. Why do you think the world is at peace?”

“I am?”

“You should talk to the Second sometime about current events in the Demon World,” Ros advises, “But yes.”

“I wouldn’t- I would only go out for really big things, it’s not like I’m going around _killing_ small-time robbers or something-”

“My point is, you can do what you want, Hero,” Ros says with a smile. “No one will dare judge you for it. They’re all too scared.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better!” Alba sputters. 

Ros just rolls his eyes. 

“Come on, Hero. Take me without fear,” he says, cupping Alba’s cheek. Alba returns the gaze, eyes conflicted. Ros continues, “No one can stop you. Not the Demon Lord, not the King, and definitely neither of our mothers.”

“That makes me feel worse!” Alba sputters again. “I don’t want to take you! That’s disgusting!”

“Even when I’m giving myself to you?” Ros says sweetly. It’s adorable how Alba instantly turns beet-red at those words. 

“O-oh,” Alba stammers out. “I mean. That’s different…”

“You’re taking me, and I’m taking you, and no one can stop it,” says Ros, “Isn’t that all that matters?”

“I, uh, I guess…” 

“Then it’s fine.” Ros pecks a kiss against Alba’s nose. 

Alba gives him a little smile. “You know, it’s weird.”

“Hm?” 

“It feels like we’ve done this before,” Alba says. He takes Ros’ hand, laces their fingers together. “Déjà vu, I guess.” He laughs. “I guess it’s not bad.”

Something in him curls in satisfaction. 

“Of course not.” Ros presses a quick kiss against Alba’s cheek next. “Let’s get going, Hero.”

* * *

Engagement rings are a relatively new development. The influx of new technology, the rise in the standard of living- it all brought in new luxuries and new customs, and one of them was the “engagement ring”. 

Ros only knows of them himself because Crea was still so into the whole go on the journey, find love, settle down and get married thing. They’ve gone into jewelry stores before, Crea babbling about what he thinks would look nice on some nameless, faceless wife. 

Neither Sion nor Ros had expected Alba would be taking them to get one less than a year later. 

He doesn’t have any particular dreams or desires associated with engagement rings, considering how new of an invention they are. But he _does_ have a desire to see Alba wearing something of his, and to wear something of Alba’s. Swapping engagement rings would do nicely. 

The clerk trips over himself when he sees Alba walk in, which probably means he was about to suggest some exorbitantly-priced rings. While Sion would probably be more than happy to mooch off of their hero to his last yen, Ros would prefer to avoid mooching too hard. 

(Not to mention, he doubts Alba has _that_ much money.)

“Hero Alba!” exclaims the clerk in excitement, “What brings you to this humble store today?”

“Um,” Alba says, looking a little uncomfortable, “I’m looking for engagement rings.”

The clerk brightens up. Ros swears he can see money symbols light up in his eyes. 

“Let’s get something reasonably priced,” Ros whispers into Alba’s ear. 

“As long as there’s something you like that’s not too expensive,” Alba murmurs back, but that’s not what Ros meant. 

He holds back a sigh. He’ll just have to try to stop the clerk from swindling them too much.

* * *

He’s rather blank-faced when he exits the shop with Alba. 

“Are you okay?” Alba asks worriedly. “Do you not like it? We can get different ones.”

“No,” Ros says, voice a little strangled. “It’s great. I love it.”

A two-toned band of silver and rose gold, small diamonds dotting up the band to the centre stone - a red ruby for Alba, an orange sapphire for Ros. It’s lovely. Ros adores the colouring. That wasn’t the problem. 

Alba’s eyes widen. “Did you want me to propose again properly? I-”

“-That’s not it either, I just-” Ros sighs.“Despite what you might think, Hero, I don’t want to put you into debt for this…”

“Oh.” Alba smiles, lightly taking Ros’ hands in his own. He runs a finger over the ring on Ros’ finger. “Don’t worry. I have enough to pay for this with money to spare. Hime-chan got that idio- the king to pay out a decent amount, y’know?” He smirks. “I can more than take care of you now, Sion.”

...That smugness kinda pisses Ros off. He kinda wants to punch Alba for it. 

_No need to hold back. We can’t let Hero get too big of a head, you know._

Ros pauses. Wait, is that-

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” Ros finds himself saying derisively, to his horror. 

He rips his hand from Alba’s grip to jab a hand into Alba’s stomach, hard. Alba yelps and bends in two, hands wrapping around his stomach. 

Ros continues, “You’re a thousand years too early to satisfy me, no matter how much money you have.” He finds his arms crossing, finds himself letting out a snort. “Who do you think trained you in the first place?”

Alba just groans. 

Ros, finding himself back in control of the body, quickly drags his arms back down to his side. 

“I’m sorry-” Ros says quickly, crouching down to place a gentle hand on Alba’s shoulder. 

But then he stops short, because-

The expression on Alba’s face is overjoyed. 

“I’m glad,” Alba says, smile shining. “I do like it when you’re nice, Sion, but-” His smile brightens, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

Ros just blinks. 

Seriously?

_You have to give that little masochist what he wants from us sometimes, or he’ll get sad._

Perverts. The both of you. 

_I think you mean the all of us._

Ros doesn’t want to hear that from someone who doesn’t even know how sex works. 

(He must’ve hit a nerve, because Sion falls silent.)

Ah, whatever. 

“Sometimes I’m just in a really good mood for a while,” Ros mumbles, “I’m not holding anything back.”

“If you’re sure,” says Alba, straightening back up. 

He still looks happy. 

It makes Ros want to let out a helpless laugh. He guesses he’ll work with what Sion left him. 

(It seems to be what Alba likes most, after all.)

“I’m sure,” Ros says. He feels like he’s saying that a lot. “But… if you’d really like to satisfy me, you know…” He brushes his lips against Alba’s ear. “You might satisfy me a little if you take me to an inn tonight.”

Alba stiffens. 

“Um,” he squeaks. 

“Well?” Ros leans back, raises an eyebrow.

“Ah, I mean-” Alba visibly swallows. "If you'd like, I-I can try."

"Try?"

"I'll succeed!" Alba says firmly, and Ros snorts.

* * *

Ros is running out of time faster than he expected. 

Sion has found his strength, and Ros’ weakness, faster than he expected. 

While Sion was entirely correct to say that the dreamscape was Ros’ “turf”, unfortunately the inverse was also true- reality was Sion’s turf. 

Unlike Ros, Sion has spent some 20-odd years controlling their body. He’s used to it. Ros is not. 

If Sion tried to wrest control from Ros in a dream, he’d probably fail. 

But if he did it while they were both awake… he has a much better chance. 

This was probably for the best though. Now that he knows that the clock is ticking, he’ll be less inclined to overstay, more than he already has. 

Like he's said before, he doesn’t want to be the villain in this story. The pitiful third wheel isn’t an attractive role either, but at least they usually aren’t hated. 

All he wants is for Alba to not hate him. 

Maybe it’s pushing it, trying to have sex with Alba before he goes. But he wants to try, at least. He wants to know how it feels in reality, and it isn’t as though he’d want to do it with anyone else. 

He has to try.

* * *

They drop by a store to pick up some oil - Alba blushing as he suggests it - before they head to an inn. Another one of reality’s little inconveniences. In the dreamscape, if you thought of it, you had it. 

Alba is recognized at the inn, unfortunately. But it’s a relatively nice inn that Alba takes them to, and the staff are prim and professional- the desk attendant hands them the keys to a suite, and doesn’t question further. 

(Good thing too, because Alba still looks vaguely embarrassed. Honestly.)

“Should we um, take a shower first?” Alba asks nervously once the door shuts behind them. 

Probably a good idea, now that Alba mentions it. Nothing would be magically clean here. 

“I’m going first,” Ros says, stepping towards the bathroom. 

Alba doesn’t argue. 

Ros is thorough in the shower, because well, while he might have experience, he has no idea how much of that experience can be relied on in reality. As a result though, when Ros exits the shower - towel wrapped around his waist - he’s kept Alba waiting for a little while. 

...Alba is sitting on the edge of the bed, sweating bullets. 

He was so adorable. 

_So cute._

Legendary hero, head of a research center...

... _Almost as tall as us..._

...but still that weak little hero on the inside. 

Something clicks in him, and a helpless smile spreads across his face. 

“You know, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Ros says, amused. 

“I want to!” Alba says quickly, straightening up. Then his eyes land on Ros, and he falls quiet, gaze flicking over Ros’ body. 

Ros lets him watch for a few moments, then snorts. “Stop staring, pervert.”

Alba squeaks, then objects- “I wasn’t-”

Ros takes a step forward, two - Alba’s mouth falling shut - then leans down to press a kiss against Alba’s forehead. 

“Come on, Hero, hurry up and take your shower,” says Ros. He flashes Alba a smirk. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“I- okay!” Alba stammers out, voice going high-pitched. 

He scrambles off the bed towards the bathroom. Ros gives him a little wave as he goes, then proceeds to flop down on the bed. 

Burying his face into a pillow, he lets out a muffled sigh. 

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous too. Of course he was! It was his first… time…

Ros frowns. 

It was his first time? That… didn’t seem right. 

But it had to be. It’s not like he’s ever been interested in sleeping with anyone other than Alba-

-Weren't they going a bit quick, if it were their first times?

And- how does he know what to do? When did he learn? 

He can’t remember. His mind feels clouded. 

Ros rubs at his forehead. 

Ah, whatever. He probably found a traumatizing porn book or something and wiped his memories of it. 

All that really matters is that he wants to sleep with Alba, and Alba wants to sleep with him. 

Ros flips onto his back, tugs off the towel at his waist and drops it onto the floor, the towel landing with a thump. He shivers- it’s a little chilly, honestly. But he guesses he’ll warm up soon enough. 

...Honestly, Ros is worried if he can do it right. He might’ve bitten off more than he could chew, pretending to act all confident…

Agh. He just has to make sure Alba doesn’t catch on. 

So Ros waits in bed - not very patiently - listening quietly to the sound of the shower running. It doesn’t take too long for Ros to hear the water shutting off, and Ros smiles. 

Seems like someone is in a hurry. 

The bathroom door opens and out pops Alba, still dripping wet, a towel haphazardly thrown at his waist. 

“Honestly, Hero,” Ros chides, “Dry yourself off properly at least. No need to be so impatient.” 

“S-sorry,” says Alba. 

...Alba must be really nervous to miss out on the chance for a retort. Ros was the one to ask Alba to hurry up in the first place. 

After a moment of hesitation, Alba grabs at his towel at his waist to pat off the worst of the dripping. 

(If Ros’ eyes drift down to check out Alba’s nether regions, no one needs know but him.)

“That’s good enough,” Ros says after a bit. “Come over, Hero.”

Alba gives him a twitchy nod, drops the towel onto the floor, then does as asked. Slowly, he climbs on the bed, lies down next to Ros. 

Stiff. 

So stiff. 

Ros caresses Alba’s cheek gently, letting the ring still on his finger press lightly against his skin, and smiles. 

“You know I’m not expecting much, right?” Ros says in amusement, “Go ahead and screw up, idiot hero. I’m not going to leave you for it.”

Alba flushes at that, but he seems to relax a little too, thankfully. 

“I won’t be that bad!” he vows, but Ros just raises an eyebrow. 

“Sure, Hero,” Ros says, voice filled with doubt. 

“I won’t!” Alba insists. 

“Okay, okay.” Ros pecks a kiss against Alba’s lips. “You won’t, I’m sure you’ll fuck my brains out, sure.”

Alba stiffens again for some reason, eyes widening. 

“Hero?” says Ros, confused. 

“Ah-” Alba makes a strangled noise. “You want me to-”

“Fuck me, yes, I thought we’d gone over this,” Ros says. “Do you not want to-”

“I do!” Alba says quickly. He pushes Ros over onto his back, shifts himself so he’s pinning Ros underneath him. 

Ros’ mouth opens in surprise, which is a mistake, because Alba leans down and slips his tongue in and- why is _Hero_ so good at kissing?!

Alba breaks them apart, panting, and smiles brightly. 

“I’ll satisfy you, Sion.”

“Ah,” Ros says weakly, mouth feeling dry. “Okay.”

* * *

Ros bites back a cry as Alba slowly sinks inside of him. His legs twitch inwards, but Alba’s hands grip his thighs tight, keeping his legs spread wide for him while he enters. 

Finally, Alba is fully sheathed, their hips pressed together. He isn’t too large, thankfully- Ros isn’t sure if he could take something much bigger, considering how stretched and plugged he feels just from this one very, _completely_ average cock. Below average, even. He makes a mental note to inform Alba of that fact as soon as he’s not-

“Are you okay?” Alba asks, the _asshole._ He can see Ros biting his lip. He shouldn’t be asking Ros questions. 

Reluctantly, Ros opens his mouth, grunts out a quick, “Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Alba pushes, and now he’s leaning in closer, his cock shifting in Ros. 

The breathy noise that escapes Ros’ mouth as Alba brushes against his prostate is most definitely not a moan. 

“Just move already,” Ros snaps, flushing red, and Alba jumps to obey. 

It’s a little uncomfortable at first, Alba’s rhythm awkward and inconsistent, his cock still a little painful. But Alba is gentle, and Ros slowly gets used to the ache. 

Once he’s adjusted though, Alba’s pace is unbearable. It’s too slow. It doesn’t hit his prostate enough. Just when he thinks he’s hit a high, Alba misses the next thrust, and the heat pooling in his stomach settles. 

It doesn’t take long for the annoyance to overtake any feeling of shame. 

So, Ros demands- “Harder.”

Ros feels Alba jolt on top of him. 

“Okay,” Alba says nervously. He pushes harder, tightens his grips on Ros’ thighs to pull him closer, deeper. 

It’s not good enough. 

“Harder,” Ros says again, a little annoyed now. 

He does his best to shove himself up Alba’s cock, though it’s a little hard from this angle. Alba lets out a small moan. 

“Sion, I-” he stutters out. 

Ros scowls, then crosses his legs around Alba, forcing himself up and deep onto Alba’s cock. 

He squeezes tight. 

“I said harder,” Ros orders, and smiles as he feels Alba’s cock twitch inside of him. 

Alba finally obeys properly, and Ros throws his head back on his pillow, gasping and twitching, hips shaking at every thrust. He should’ve just done this from the sta- ah, _fuck_ , it felt good. 

“What,” Alba pants out between thrusts, “What else do you, ah, want?”

Ros peers up at Alba through half-lidded eyes, pauses for a moment to appreciate the dazed, devoted look on his hero’s face, then holds back a snort. 

So Alba likes getting ordered around, does he?

Well, he’d be more than happy to fulfill that little desire for his hero. 

Ros bares his neck. 

“Mark me,” he orders, and Alba immediately descends on his neck, biting lightly. Ros isn’t entirely sure how hard Alba needs to bite to leave a mark, and he’s fairly sure Alba isn’t sure either, but whatever. It’s the thought that counts. 

But Alba’s pace falters as he lavishes his attentions to Ros’ neck, and so Ros reaches up to scratch sharp lines on Alba’s back. It’s meant as a punishment, but considering the breathy moan Alba lets out, it’s not much of one. 

“I didn’t tell you to slow down,” Ros says anyways. 

“Sorry,” Alba pants out, and goes back to fucking him properly. 

Ros lets out another pleased moan in response. 

It doesn’t take long for Alba to bring his mouth to Ros’ ear, to whimper pathetically, “Sion, I’m going to- I’m close-”

“Touch me then,” Ros orders, because he’d rather not be left high and dry. 

One of Alba’s hands lets go of Ros’ leg to scramble down, paw at Ros’ cock spilling precum on his stomach. Ros lets out a gasp as Alba’s hand starts thrusting erratically. 

He really hopes Alba isn’t looking for any more orders, because between Alba’s hand rubbing one out and Alba’s cock still fucking into him, he really doesn’t think he can manage any coherent words at the moment. 

Then Alba is kissing him, sloppy and wet, and Ros can’t hold it back any longer. His hips thrust up, and then he’s spilling into all over his stomach, moaning into Alba’s mouth.

He squeezes almost instinctively around Alba’s cock as he comes, and soon after, he feels Alba shudder and moan in return, spilling out inside of him. Alba gives him a few last thrusts as he softens, slipping out of Ros with a mess of lube and come that Ros can feel all too well. 

“Sion,” Alba mumbles affectionately, collapsing next to Ros. He nuzzles his neck. “Sion, Sion…”

“Hero,” Ros says, equally affectionately. 

They stay like that for a little while, catching their breath. 

The embarrassment catches up with Ros, but- overall, he thinks Alba embarrassed himself more than Ros. So it’s okay, if Ros maybe let out a couple moans and maybe asked Alba to fuck him harder. At least he didn’t get off to being ordered about. 

Yes. Definitely came out on top there. Ros nods to himself. 

Ros shifts a little. His ass is starting to feel uncomfortable, wet and sticky, and he’s beginning to really feel the ache. He opens his mouth to suggest cleaning up, when-

“Sion, one more round?” Alba mumbles, gazing at him with a pleading expression. 

...It was pretty cute. 

“Fine.”

* * *

When Ros wakes up the next morning, he feels utterly disgusting. Everything aches. His ass, obviously, but his jaw from sucking Alba off, his arms from getting fucked into the mattress on his hands and knees-

Alba was damn insatiable. He was going to kill him once he woke up. 

(Ros pointedly ignores that he could’ve refused to continue at any time, especially considering how avidly Alba was following his every order.)

Then he realizes- why wait for him to wake?

And kicks him in the shins. 

Alba wakes with a loud yelp. 

“Good, good morning, Sion…” Alba says, somewhat mournfully. He caresses his shin. “What’s the matter?”

“You cer-” Ros breaks out into a cough, to his horror. His voice is hoarse. Glaring at Alba, he continues more quietly- “You certainly had your merry way with me last night.”

Alba seems unphased by the glare, to Ros’ annoyance. Instead, he places a hand at Ros’ throat and begins channeling healing magic. 

“Did I satisfy you though?” Alba asks happily. 

Ros scowls silently. He wants to give him a firm no, but-

A good part of him is still warm and gooey and happy despite his aches, despite his hoarse throat. 

“...I guess,” admits Ros reluctantly. 

Alba smiles.

* * *

Once he gets himself cleaned up and grabs his ring (which had been wisely removed and placed on a table sometime during the night), Ros makes his way back to his house. 

One issue, however, is the following. 

His neck looks like a crime scene. He’s popped up his shirt collar so it’s not as noticeable at a glance, but anyone looking closely would probably see. 

So, he needs to decide how to explain it, or preferably, how to sneak in. He does care for his mother after all, and he’d rather avoid causing her a heart attack-

Ros stops in the middle of the street. 

Care for his mother?

Does he care for his mother?

His mind feels foggy again, but he pushes it away. No. That doesn’t seem right. 

He… doesn’t care for his mother. He doesn’t care for anyone but Alba and Crea. 

It’s Sion who cares about anyone else. 

He... isn’t Sion. 

He isn’t Sion. 

Ros pales. 

_He isn’t Sion_.

* * *

Ros knows what happened, of course. He’s experienced it before, though he hadn’t been in control then, obviously. 

They’d merged. 

This isn’t good. He hadn’t expected this. How could this have happened? Hasn’t he been acting in a way that Sion hated, heart on his sleeve?

Did Sion want to sleep with Alba as badly as him?

...Honestly, that doesn’t seem surprising, now that he thinks about it. 

But it’s okay. He just has to be more careful, now he knows it’s a risk. 

He’ll… go back to the dreamscape tonight. He’s not quite sure how to swap back in reality, so it’ll have to wait until he meets Sion again, but he’ll do it. 

He’s had his fun. He’s satisfied. It’s fine. 

(He still wants to cry.)

* * *

Ros is distracted when he reaches his house, which is why he forgets he has something to hide. 

It’s too late by the time he opens the door. 

“Sion,” comes a sweet voice. “Where were you yesterday?”

Cecily walks into view, a dark expression on her face. Lake follows right behind. 

“Yeah, I was waiting for you to come back!” Lake says brightly, completely oblivious to the nasty aura emanating above him. “You were going to take me to see Salt today!”

“Oh, right,” Ros says immediately. He had completely forgotten about that, but he isn’t about to say no to an unexpected blessing. “Let’s go, Lake.”

Lake nods and makes to come over, but he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“Not yet, Lake,” Cecily says coolly. “I’m still talking with your brother.”

A muscle twitches in Ros’ face. 

He’s twenty-one, and more importantly- he’s spent most of his life raising himself. Sion chose to live with her and Lake because he wanted to get to know them better. It was basically a _favour_ to her. 

Cecily has no business interrogating either him or Sion about their business. 

Ros opens his mouth to say as much. “Cecily-”

“Woah, are you okay, Sii-tan?” Lake says, voice worried. “Your neck is so bruised!”

“...Is it?” Ros says brightly. “I think it’s fine!”

Why did Lake have to pick this moment to be so observational? 

(Why couldn’t Alba have bitten him a little lower on his neck?)

...Cecily’s aura is growing darker by the second. 

Sensing this wouldn’t turn out well for anyone if Ros stayed any longer, he darts forwards to grab Lake’s hand, then beelines out of the house - Lake stumbling after him before Cecily could react. 

“See you later, Cecily!” he says cheerfully as he goes. 

“Bye, mom!” Lake says, equally cheerfully. 

Ros slams the door shut and shoots a bit of magic into it to jam it for good measure. 

“Wait!” Cecily shouts after them. He can hear the door shaking dangerously. 

“Should we wait?” Lake says, frowning. 

“Don’t you want to see Salt?” Ros says with a winning smile, and with that, Lake is bought over.

* * *

Sion usually uses Rchi’s whistle once he’s a safe way into the forest, away from any crowds, and Ros decides it’s probably the best to do the same. 

So they’re off walking together, looking for a nice clearing to call in Rchi, when Lake pipes up again. 

“But really, where were you yesterday? I mean…” Lake frowns. “You come back hurt, and- what’s with the ring?”

“Ah.” Ros coughs. “You noticed?”

“You’ve been fidgeting with it a lot… of course I did!”

It’s not really his fault. It’s so new, he’s afraid he’ll drop it. He can’t help but fidget with it. 

“Hero gave it to me,” Ros hedges. 

“Hero Alba?!” Lake exclaims, eyes shining. “Wait- were you fighting a monster yesterday with him? Is that how you got hurt? Why didn’t you take me with you guys? I could’ve helped! I’m your big brother!”

Ros winces at the sudden onslaught of questions. Right- he’d forgotten that Lake was a Hero Alba fan. 

...Obnoxious. 

“Something like that,” Ros says vaguely. 

“What was the monster like?” Lake presses, still excited. “Was it scary?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Ros says, and by that, he means he’s throwing it on Sion to explain. “Look, we can probably call Rchi up ahead. Let’s go.”

* * *

Salt is crying at his desk when they arrive at the cave. Ros supposes his homework is just that tough for him. 

“Salt?” Lake says worriedly, as soon as they’re close enough to see. 

Salt cuts off his cries, though he’s still sniffling a bit. His eyes widen, face brightening- “Lake?”

It doesn’t take long for Salt to cheer up with Lake by his side, thankfully. Ros wasn’t about to comfort him. It's not like he knew how.

“We should have our lesson before we play, I guess,” Salt says, looking a little disappointed. 

“Really?” Lake says, sounding equally disappointed. 

Ros waves a hand dismissively. “Your friend’s here, your homework can wait until next week.”

“But-” Salt frowns. “I want to learn this quickly, so I can leave…”

Tch. A tough nut. 

“One week won’t make much of a difference in the long run,” Ros tells him sagely. “It’s more important to keep your mental health up by spending time with your friends when they’re here.”

Thankfully, that manages to convince Salt, and he goes over to Lake to do whatever little kids do for fun nowadays. Dig holes? 

While Ros certainly has a theoretical knowledge of magic, and he probably could’ve taught Salt the basic mathematics and scientific concepts he’s learning at the moment, he’d prefer not to. For one, it was a pain, and he was lazy. For two, he’s never tried practical application of this kinda thing, and he’s not entirely sure if he’s remembering it right. 

Sion was such a saint, taking on tutoring duties yet again- this time for some random kid. 

Well, Ros supposes that might be a bit harsh on the kid. Ros - Ros personally, not Sion - did owe him one, after all. 

He’s the one who told him about Rchimedes’ true last moments. 

What a joke! His father hadn’t given a second thought to him. Not even one throwaway line. Salt had been so surprised to learn that he was Lake’s brother!

Ros had immediately snatched up the resentment that had built up in them at that. 

Logically speaking, he knows Lake and Cecily aren’t to blame. Logically speaking, he knows he should blame his shitty father, if he was going to blame anyone. 

Ros doesn’t care. 

But it’s fine. Ros will sit in the back of their mind with his illogical resentment, while Sion can play at being family with people who probably don’t even see him as such, just like Rchimedes didn’t. 

_...They aren’t like that. They aren’t like him._

They are. 

Ros stares at Lake with a cool gaze.

* * *

Cecily, thankfully, has calmed down some by the time they make it back to the house around dinnertime. 

When they step into the house, Cecily watches them silently for a moment before simply saying, “Come to the dinner table.”

With some caution, Ros does as asked. 

Dinner is silent for a while, the atmosphere awkward and oppressive. Even Lake doesn’t say anything, choosing to keep his head down and munch on his food. 

Finally, Cecily places her cutlery on the table with a clatter and says, “Sion.”

“Yes?” Ros says brightly. 

“I do chat with other mothers fairly regularly,” Cecily says calmly. 

“That’s good to hear,” Ros says, voice neutral. He takes another bite of the food. 

“I know what an engagement ring is,” she continues flatly. 

“...Ah,” Ros says awkwardly. He holds back the urge to fidget with his ring. 

The table falls silent again for a short while, Lake mostly looking confused. 

“Do you have anything you’d like to announce, Sion?” Cecily asks finally. 

“Oh, I’m getting married,” Ros says casually. “At some point. Date unconfirmed.” 

“What?!” exclaims Lake, staring incredulously, “To who?”

“To Hero obviously, who else?” Ros stands up, chair scraping behind him. “I’m not hungry, I think I’m done for the night.”

Lake mouths ‘who else’ to himself, still looking incredulous. 

“Sion. I… suppose I understand why you wanted to keep this from me,” Cecily says sourly. “And I… _suppose_ I might be willing to let you go, if you really insist.” Her expression darkens. “If you _really_ insist.”

Ros shrugs. “I do.”

Cecily purses his lips. “Fine.”

“That’s all?” Ros says, a little surprised. He really hadn’t expected things to go that smoothly, not with her. 

“I suspected you were dating already,” Cecily says with a sigh, “Though I didn’t expect you to get engaged so quickly...” 

…Ros chooses not to correct Cecily’s misunderstanding. 

Expression dark, she chews on a fingernail. “But why did it have to be _Hero Alba,_ of all people?”

A flash of displeasure. “What’s wrong with Hero?”

“There’s nowhere I could lock you up to keep you from him,” Cecily says coldly. Her teeth grind. “There’s no point in even trying… why couldn’t it have been some village girl? I could’ve dealt with that.”

Ros didn’t really want to learn he took after his mother in this way.

* * *

Ros wakes up the next morning. 

Which would be nice, except for the fact that he hadn’t wanted to. 

He hadn’t met Sion during the night, which meant he couldn’t swap back over. He didn’t even remember what he dreamed of. 

What was going on? Did Sion not know how to call him there?

All he needed to do was have something to say to him that Ros didn’t know or acknowledge. Sion should have plenty of things to say. This shouldn’t be a problem!

Ros bites his lip. Maybe if he goes back to sleep, Sion would succeed in drawing him back this time. 

He gives it a shot.

* * *

It doesn’t work.

* * *

It takes almost a week until he’s drawn back to the dreamscape, Ros panicking more and more for each day that passes. It’s a sheer relief when he finally opens his eyes to see that familiar white expanse. 

He spent most of the week by Alba’s side, helping him parse through the disjointed results of his investigations. So it’s not like he disliked his time there, but-

He’s terrified that he’ll merge back with Sion if he stays in reality for any longer, and he can’t let that happen. 

(How could Sion survive without a buffer for his feelings? 

How could Ros?)

“Finally,” grumbles Ros as he hauls himself off the floor. “What took you so…”

He trails off, because-

“Hi, Meta Ros,” Alba says, smiling softly. 

What was Alba doing standing next to Sion? Ros stares blankly. 

“He found me,” Sion says by way of explanation. He shrugs. “He doesn’t really remember it well when he’s awake, but you visited him every night, didn’t you? Of course he’d notice.”

Of course he’d notice?

Ros hasn’t expected that. He hasn’t expected Alba would care that much about a dream, when he’d have Sion in reality. 

(He feels a little warm inside.)

“If you’re here to convince me to give Sion back his body, there’s no need.” Ros waves a hand dismissively. “I already planned to-”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Alba cuts in. 

Ros frowns. “Then why…?”

“He’s not here to convince you to give me back our body,” Sion says, stepping towards Ros. 

Ros steps back automatically, but Sion keeps pushing forwards, and so Ros gives in and stops. 

Smiling, Sion takes Ros’ hands in his own. “He’s here to help me.”

“Help you with what?” asks Ros. 

“Convincing you to take _me_ back,” Sion says calmly, “Convincing you that we shouldn’t be two.”

Oh no. 

Ros laughs nervously. “What are you- I’m a fake. What are you even saying?”

“That’s not true,” Sion says, still ever-calm. “Nothing you’ve said, nothing you feel, is anything I haven’t thought before.”

“So you hate your family?” Ros says with a sneer. 

Sion glances at the ground. “I’m not proud of it.” He looks back up, face set. “But I’ve felt flashes of resentment before. I won’t deny it.”

But he doesn’t anymore. Because of Ros, because Ros swallows everything Sion doesn’t want to keep-

Why does he want to throw that barrier away?

Ros needs to hit harder. 

“So you want to keep Hero all to yourself?” Ros says coolly. He glances at Alba standing behind Sion, expression neutral, and smilies cruelly. “Lock him up somewhere safe, so he has no choice but to look at anyone but yourself?”

“Yes.” Sion smiles wryly. “Of course I do.”

Alba’s expression twists into something conflicted. “...Let’s talk about that later, Sion…” 

“I wouldn’t actually do it, of course,” Sion continues, Alba looking a little relieved at that. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel that way.” He meets Ros’ gaze steadily. “Everything you feel, I do too. Haven’t I been calling you my mirror for years? Why would I do that if I didn’t know you were me?”

“I’m not your mirror!” Ros snaps, ripping his hands from Sion’s. “I’m not your unconscious! I’m-”

Just a fake, a mish-mash of negative emotions to serve as Sion’s barrier. He wasn’t-

“You’re my mirror,” Sion says calmly, “And I’m yours. I have my flaws I keep from you, and you have yours you keep from me.”

“What- what’s that even supposed to mean?” snaps Ros, “What flaws?”

“You don’t care about anyone but Hero,” Sion says flatly. 

“I don’t see that as a flaw,” Ros says primly, “And I care about Crea.”

“Fine. You don’t care about anyone but Hero or Crea,” Sion corrects, “That’s not much of an improvement.”

Ros sneers. “And you’re so much better. Nice to everyone but Hero, even though he’s the one you love. What are you, an elementary schooler teasing his crush?”

Sion flushes red. “Shut up.”

“And don’t you have anything to say about this?” Ros asks Alba. 

Alba jolts. “I mean, I think it’s cute, Sio- _ack!_ ”

He’s cut off by Sion’s foot jabbing into his shin. 

Ros gestures. “This is what I’m talking about, you realize.”

“Then rein in my urges,” Sion says, serious again. “And I’ll rein in yours.”

“...You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

“I think I do,” Sion says stubbornly. 

“You don’t!” Ros snaps, “Hero- I don’t know what you think you’re here for.” He gestures wildly. “Don’t you love Sion?”

Alba looks at him in confusion. “I mean, yes, but I do love you too. I love all of you-”

“-Hero, please stop. You’re embarrassing yourself,” Sion quickly cuts in. 

Ros holds back a snort. More like he’s embarrassing _you._

“I know that’s a lie anyways, Hero,” Ros says simply. 

Alba looks offended. “What?”

“Maybe you do love some of me,” Ros grants, “But you don’t love me anywhere near as much as you do Sion.” He smiles helplessly. “If you did, you wouldn’t have still missed Sion so much, no matter how much I tried to stave your loneliness.”

“...Ah,” Alba says, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Meta Ros. That’s my fault.”

“See-”

“I thought I had made you up, to be an ideal for my dreams,” Alba explains quietly. “I thought that I made up a Ros that was always nice, that would do, um, whatever I asked-”

“Pervert,” snorts Sion. 

“- _and-_ ” Alba says loudly, speaking over Sion, “I was ashamed of myself for that.” He flushes a little, glances to the side. “I, um, I didn’t realize you were a real part of Sion. So I still missed him, of course, even if you helped a lot.”

“An… ideal?” Ros repeats, blinking. “Me being nice? You’re a masochist though.”

“I’m not a masochist!” Alba sputters. 

“Yes, you are,” Ros and Sion say, in perfect sync. Ros scowls after. 

Alba looks rather displeased, but doesn’t bother to debate the obvious fact any further. 

“Anyways,” Ros says, “Even if Hero is telling the truth, he’s only a small part of the issue.” He crosses his arms. “I won’t merge with you.”

“What’s the other part then?” Sion asks, refusing to back down. 

“You said that I have my flaws, and you have yours,” Ros says, “What proof do you have that merging won’t just make all of our flaws worse?”

“None,” Sion says with a shrug. “But everyone lives with their flaws.”

Not Sion. Never Sion. 

It’s because of Ros that he survived being Creasion. Doesn’t he get that?

Ros grits his teeth. “I won’t do it. Final answer.”

“Okay,” Sion says freely, “Then I won’t leave here until you do.”

“Wha- you can’t do that!” sputters Ros. 

“Who says I can’t?” Sion asks.

Desperate, Ros appeals to Alba, “You’re fine with this?”

“If you don’t merge, either way, one of you has to stay behind.” Alba looks a little melancholic. “I don’t like that I don’t remember my dreams well when I wake, but I’ll always stay with him as I sleep, of course.”

“Have the both of you gone crazy?” snaps Ros, “ _I_ was born here, _I_ should stay. I can’t go traipsing around in reality while knowing you’re-”

“Then why do you expect me to go traipsing around in reality while knowing you’re here?”

“It’s different!” Ros hisses. “You’re the real one!”

“I’m no more real than you,” Sion says patiently. 

“That’s not true! What do you know?!” Ros clenches his fists. “All this time, I’ve protected you-”

“-We don’t need protection anymore,” Sion cuts in. He glares at Ros. “Open your eyes!”

“What does that even _mean?_ ”

“There’s so many people around us now,” Sion says, imploring. “More than just Alba and Crea. Lake and Cecily, they _do_ care for us. And there’s Rchi too, and the Second, and Honey. Salt is a good kid, and he deserves more than indifference.”

Ros sneers. “So what?” 

“The world is at peace,” Sion continues, “And it’ll stay at peace, because Hero won’t ever let it falter.” He gazes at Ros, _pitying_ \- how dare he - and says, “There’s no need to be Creasion any longer. We don’t need a failsafe to protect ourselves from everything anymore, don’t you see?”

Ros flinches. 

Creasion?

He was nothing like that asshole. Even the comparison was insulting. That bastard, so numb to the world he’d watch a child crying in front of him and not even reach out a hand in comfo-

Salt, crying at his desk, flashes in his head. 

Ros turns white. 

Had he… when had he gotten this bad? 

Has he always been this bad? Had he just never noticed?

Ros collapses to the ground, head in his hands. 

“Meta Ros?” Alba says, instantly worried. 

“I’m fine,” Ros says, more to comfort himself than Alba, “I’m… I’m fine.”

He looks up at Sion, expression dull. “Do you really think the world will stay at peace?”

“Didn’t we leave everything to Hero?” Sion counters, “Don’t you trust him?”

He does, of course he does. 

“Aren’t you afraid of disappearing?” Ros says quietly. He looks back down at the ground, white and shapeless. 

He hears Sion settle down in front of him. “Aren’t you?”

Ros shakes his head. 

“I’ve always… I was always just a barrier for you,” he explains, “If I can become part of the whole… that’s more than I’ve ever hoped for. But you- aren’t you afraid? You were always in charge.”

“It’s not like I’m disappearing,” Sion says, “We’re just coming back together. And well-” he coughs “-I guess it might be nice to be a little more sincere about my feelings.”

Ros snorts. 

“Okay,” says Ros, meeting Sion’s gaze. 

“Okay?” echoes Sion. 

Ros has always known, deep inside, that Sion has long since accepted him. He’s just denied it, denied it desperately. 

He was the blocker. Carefully holding on, because he was so afraid, so afraid of overwhelming them with his negative feelings, with everything Sion couldn’t bear. 

But if that was keeping them in the past- if that was keeping a piece of Creasion living within them-

They needed to move on. 

Ros needed to let them. 

“Okay,” Ros says again, and closes his eyes.

* * *

Ros opens his eyes. 

“Ros...?” Alba says hesitantly, peering down at him. “Sion? Meta Ros?”

Ros pauses, takes a moment to consider. 

“Ros is good, Hero,” he says, smiling up at Alba. It’s the name that Crea chose, that Alba made into his. He likes it. 

“How are you feeling?” asks Alba. 

“Happy,” Ros decides. “I think I need some time to muddle through everything in my mind, but- I’m happy.” 

There’s some points in his mind that are a little strange, where he remembers multiple perspectives. He’ll sort through them eventually, he hopes. 

The meta knowledge has remained for now, but he imagines he’ll forget it when he awakes, just like Alba does. Having a protagonist constantly break the fourth wall is hard to deal with. Not many works can do it well, and Haruhara seems to have wisely decided to save himself the trouble. 

He feels good though, like a cloud of worry over his mind has dissipated. It’s nice. 

“I’m glad,” Alba says, and smiles back. 

“You really are an insatiable pervert though, aren’t you?” 

Alba chokes. “Where- where did that come from?!”

“I can’t believe you took my virginity three times.” Ros stands himself back up, smirks. “Is that a kink for you? Do you have a virginity fetish?”

“Wh- it was my first time too!” Alba objects. 

“Not when you slept with me after you came to find me,” Ros says, voice sing-songy. 

Alba flushes. “Well, that time, I guess… But you _asked_ me to-”

“Details,” Ros says, waving a hand dismissively. 

“What do you mean, details!”

“Details!” Ros repeats brightly, “Well, you can’t pop the cherry of any more of my personalities, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not interested in that anyways,” Alba says, exasperated. 

“You don’t want to sleep with me?” Ros says with a gasp. “I’m sorry, that’s a personal dealbreaker… I don’t think our marriage is going to last very long…”

“That’s not what I meant!” Alba sputters. 

Ros smiles. 

“Yes, yes, I know,” he says, drawing up close. He presses a kiss against Alba’s lips, then leans back and smiles. “I love you.”

“I-I love you too,” Alba responds, red dusting his cheeks. “But where did that come from?”

“Part of me wanted to say that for a long time, but never could,” Ros says quietly. Then he grins. “I don’t know why, since now I can yank your feelings around so much better.”

Alba just laughs dryly. 

“If you want to run, you should do it before the wedding,” Ros advises. 

“I’m never running,” Alba says firmly, but then his expression pinches. “This whole engagement thing is a disaster though… I hadn’t even _kissed_ you in real life when I proposed. What was I thinking?!”

“You only think it’s a disaster now because you remember clearly how much time we spent building up to it here,” Ros says dismissively. He snorts. “You’re certainly perfectly happy about it whenever you wake back up.”

“Don’t remind me…” Alba groans. “And that’s not the point. I want to do the same in reality, I want to take you out on dates, take you-”

“-And what’s stopping you from doing it as my fiancé?” Ros asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Alba pauses. 

“Nothing, I guess,” Alba admits. 

“Exactly,” Ros says, “So give it up, because I’m not letting you take it back. I like my ring.”

“We’re having a long engagement period at least,” Alba compromises. 

“I’m fine with that,” Ros allows. 

* * *

They sit down together, on the white floor- neither of them feeling up to creating a nice landscape. The night wasn't anywhere near over, as both Alba and Ros would be sleeping for a while longer. But Ros was perfectly fine with that, and judging from the smile on Alba's face, Alba is fine with it too.

“You know," Alba says suddenly, "I didn’t expect us to end up matching.”

Ros frowns, confused. “Matching? What do you mean?”

“Oh. I guess you haven’t seen your face,” Alba says contemplatively. He runs a hand over his face, removing the glamour to reveal his one red eye. “I mean this.”

His meaning clicks. 

“My eyes are different colours now?!” Ros sputters. 

“Yeah,” Alba says, voice sympathetic. 

“I hope this doesn’t carry over to reality…” Ros mumbles, then remembers having to cast a glamour over black eyes. “Crap. It’s going to.”

“Why did Meta Ros have black eyes anyways?” Alba asks, curious. 

“I have no clue,” Ros says truthfully. “Honestly, I think it was just that Haruhara wanted to give me some kind of distinguishing feature. It’s not as though he gave me a fancy outfit, after all.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter,” Alba decides. “You look nice either way.”

“Such a flirt, Hero.” Ros smirks. “I guess that’s how you took my virginity three ti-”

“-Could you let that go?!” Alba asks desperately. “You didn’t even know what virginity _was_ until I told you!”

Ros coughs in embarrassment. “Well, that was your mistake.”

“It definitely was…” Alba grumbles. 

Ros laughs. “Don’t worry about it too much, Hero. You shouldn’t care anyways. After all-” He wraps his arms around Alba, presses himself against him tight. “When I’m going to be spending the rest of my life with you, what does it matter?”

Alba is quiet for a moment. 

Then he returns the embrace just as tightly. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Alba says affectionately. “Are you really sure about me?”

“Well, I could do so much better,” Ros says with a sigh. “But I suppose I like having someone dedicated to making witty retorts to my jokes. It’s your one advantage over your competitors.”

“...What competitors.”

“I was joking, Hero, don’t look so serious,” Ros snorts. With an awkward cough, he admits- “I’ve never considered anyone but you.”

“I’m happy,” says Alba, voice quiet. 

“Yeah,” Ros says, leaning in closer, “I am too.”

* * *

Ros doesn't tell Alba, but it's not all good, that he's become one. He still feels all the resentment that he had before, as Meta Ros.

But he thinks that he can work through the resentment now, instead of letting it fester forever. Because he still cares for his family, for everyone else, just as he had as Sion, and it's hard to keep up resentment towards people you care for.

(Ros had spent years wishing for a mother, reading out his diary to her gravestone and wondering if she'd be proud of him. He remembers that clearly now, and he doesn't want to let go.)

And... aside from that, his desire to monopolize Alba have risen, and while he thinks he can still hold himself back, he's not sure what he'd do if Alba ever left him. He doesn't think he'd survive it.

He's beginning to suspect that Alba won't, though.

And that's good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it to here, thank you! I hope you enjoyed. Meta Ros, I love you, but you're too hard to write. Never again.
> 
> Hit us up at the [senyuu discord](https://discord.gg/EPxGygy) if you'd like!


End file.
